


My girl

by Alayne_StoneColdFox



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Asoiaf - Fandom, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Age Play, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Bisexuality, Businessmen, Cocaine, Collars, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Deepthroating, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominance, Drugs, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Face-Fucking, Fingerfucking, Group Sex, Homosexuality, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Office Sex, Older Man/Younger Woman, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, POV First Person, Public Hand Jobs, Public Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Sex Toys, Slapping, Spanking, Threesome - F/F/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-03-26 05:14:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3838459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alayne_StoneColdFox/pseuds/Alayne_StoneColdFox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU/Kink fic.</p><p>They weren't ones for apologies and they weren't ones for love. Sansa Stark and Petyr Baelish are held together by something much stronger and much less pure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“That's what you're wearing?”

I looked down at my outfit. It was all pressed and ironed, my hair was in a sleek black ponytail, my hem line was at my knees, my shoes matched my bag...

“What? It's my business outfit”

“You're posing as my young new intern, not an editor at vogue” Petyr chided 

“Well, why can't your young new intern be fashionable?” 

“Nobody wears red in these places, it's all blacks and greys. We need you blending in”

“It's not really red, more of a burgundy...” I trailed off, realising he had a point about blending.

“Besides, interns don't get paid, and that's a six hundred pound pair of shoes you're wearing” He glanced down at my Valentino heels.

“Well, maybe Alayne can be from a rich family? Maybe that's the only reason she got the esteemed position of being Petyr Baelish's intern” I said with flair, my voice dripping with sarcasm by the time I got to his name.

It didn't earn me a laugh, but his lip curled up in a half smile “If Alayne was from a rich family, all the men in that board room would know about you. They would have made it their business” he said, as I moved back to the bedroom to change.

“Yes, yes. Ok” I called from the walk in wardrobe. Maybe if we didn't need to be somewhere, and I had some time, I could convince him to let me keep my outfit, since I'd spent last night planning it. I'd become quite good at getting what I wanted these days “God, I don't think I actually own anything cheap....I'll wear the Donna Karan. It's plain enough to look cheap”

“Maybe tone down the makeup a bit too. The eyeliner is a bit much” I heard him call out, ever the critic.

“Do you have any idea how much time it would take to re-do my eye makeup? Unless you can give me another twenty minutes, you might just have to cope” I called back “Besides, it makes me look older”

His silence was him admitting I was right. Alayne the intern was twenty two, not a fresh faced eighteen year old. The heels, the dark hair, the lipstick, it all helped the look. In the evening, when I washed my face, took off the tight dresses in exchange for loose pyjamas, and put my hair up for bed, Petyr had started to complain I looked too young. The cheek. As if he had developed a sense of morals over my age now, and not before.

When I re-emerged, Petyr's critical glance was upon me again.

“Does it meet your criteria?” I did a little step around for his benefit.

“It meets a certain type of criteria of mine, but not the one for a professional workplace” he muttered.

Now he was just being pedantic “Oh, come on, Donna Karan is hardly sexy. She's like the name brand designer for funerals. Its dark grey, there isn't an ounce of cleavage showing, these are cap sleeves-”

“You're still wearing the six hundred pound stilettos” he looked at me as if he knew I'd kept them on just to be defiant.

“And are they the sexy part are they?”

“No, they're the part that everyone will assume I've bought for you because we're fucking” he said bluntly.

“Hm, and we wouldn't want that, would we?”

o0o0oo0o0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

I walked up the steps to Arryn Holdings, now wearing a pair of more sensible kitten heels.The building was one of the biggest in Bristols business district, which admittedly wasn't that big. Not compared to London anyway.

“How long will the meeting last, do you know?” I asked.

“An hour or less hopefully, though it may go longer. Sometimes they like to drag these things out” Petyr answered.

I had hoped I hadn't pulled a face, but I must have.

“If it helps get you through it, I've organised a lunch at a nice restaurant down town afterwards, so that's something to look forward too”

That did help. I liked our lunches together. These days he was so busy, and on my behalf as well. 

I followed Petyr into the lobby, the big executive come all the way to hold all these big important meetings. It was funny to see so many men scramble to shake his hand, to throw their names out there, only to have their smiles drop as soon as his back was turned. They needed him, but they didn't like him. Business was such a dirty game.

As we rode to the top of the building in the glass elevator, I relished my new role. I'd become my new character as soon as my heels had hit the marble floor, hearing the click clack, click clack, as I strode besides Petyr. Mr. Baelish, as I had to call him, and I had to suppress a little smile every time I said it. Perhaps I would call him that in bed tonight. It would make a change from 'Daddy'.

We were led down halls and past cubicles and offices, as Petyr walked and talked with stuffy looking men in expensive suits. I held my leather document holders in one arm and followed behind, walking with long strides to keep up, the sounds of distant telephones ringing and the tapping of keyboards hitting my ears. I decided that Alayne wasn't one for nonsense. This was her first taste of real business and she was eager to impress, but reserved and perhaps nervous. She'd only just met this Mr. Baelish after all, and she wasn't used to be surrounded by these powerful men, unlike Sansa, who had dealt with them half her life. 

“Petyr, you old son of a bitch!” came a booming voice. A plummy voice, from a smiling man, who's cheeks were too red, in a blazer that didn't fit over his gut. He stood outside what had to be the boardroom they'd been heading for.

“Gerold Grafton!” Petyr greeted him, his smile just as big, as he was clapped on the back heartily in the way that men did “What the hell did they invite you for?”

I could tell Petyr hated him as they laughed together.

“Hows business up in Gulltown?” Petyr asked.

“You'd know if you ever bothered to stick your nose in and check up on us. It's been two years since you've been down!” the man said, with no real animosity as they headed inside together.

“I check the reports, I see the stocks, you've not given me any reason to worry about you yet” Petyr smiled, as he gave a subtle gesture to me about where I should sit.

I knew the man waiting at the head of the table must be Mr. Royce, plus there were a few men already in the room, setting up their laptops, pulling out papers. I noticed a women too, fussing around by the side of the room with some files. I went to do the same, arranging what I knew Mr. Baelish would be needing for his presentation, when the plummy voiced man, this Mr. Grafton, snapped his fingers at me.

“And who's this lovely young lady then? Have you started shopping around for new associate in the Ann summers catalogue, eh? You old sleaze” the man laughed, along with a couple other men in the room.

Sansa would have grimaced at him, this ugly old man and his snapping fingers. This was hardly the worst thing a man had ever said to her. Alayne just looked at a loss, though, blue eyes looking to her boss.

I was glad to see Petyr's smile had waned.

“This is Alayne. She's doing an internship with me for the next few weeks” 

“Lucky you then” Grafton chortled. Alayne looked demurely away. Sansa knew the bastard was imagining her out of her Donna Karan dress. 

Then he clapped his meaty hands together “Right, is this all of us? Anyone else to arrive before we can get this all underway?” he peered around the room.

“Still a couple more” Said a balding man across the room as he checked his watch.

“We'll give it another ten minutes, we're not behind” said Mr. Royce.

“Ah, righto then. In that case-” Grafton snapped his fingers again, this time towards the only other women in the room “You wouldn't mind being a love and getting us a coffee from downstairs would you? Long black, no sugar”

He pulled a ten pound note from his breast pocket, and the women paused, only now looking up from her files. She stared at the note, and she stared at him.

It was a seething look. Nothing crossed her face, but simply by the silence that had fallen across the room, with all the other men at the table turned to watch, I could tell she was not a women who would be fetching anybody coffee.

Grafton faltered under her gaze and laughed a little nervously “I'm sorry, are you...not-”

“The secretary?” The women snapped, turning to face him fully “No, Mr. Grafton. I am not. Barbrey Dustin. Pleased to meet you” she said, her tone telling him she was anything but pleased.

“Oh, god, I am so sorry-” Grafton flustered and laughed, the Dustin name ringing in his ears “My mistake, I apologise, I really do. God, how embarrassing”

Barbrey gave him the curt smile of a woman who was used to such men. I knew that look well.

As the uncomfortable moment hung in the air, Grafton turned to me next.  
“So, Alison, was it? You wouldn't mind running down and-”

He had moved trajectory, his ten pound note now being thrust under my own nose, but Barbrey's voice once again cut through the room.

“The girl won't be getting you your coffee either” she said, ice in her voice, and her face even colder “If you're so desperate for one, you are perfectly capable of getting it yourself. In fact, I rather fancy one now. Why don't you go down and get us all a coffee. Here” she strode across the room to pull her purse from her bag, fetching him a handful of notes.

Grafton's face was a mix of indignant offence and humility, and if possible, his cheeks had turned even redder.

“I honestly don't-”

“No, go on. My treat. You heard Nestor, we have ten minutes before we get started. Plenty of time” she said, and I noticed Petyr in particular had to try hard to hide his amusement.

The rest of the meeting proceeded as normal. A dull presentation, an even duller slideshow that I was barely following. I was only beginning to understand these sorts of things, and even then, that was when I had Petyr over my shoulder to help me. I could hardly lean over and ask him about the intricacies of cash flow statements and dividends, and just exactly how it was all meant to tie together, as these men prattled on in front of graphs and tables I didn't understand. I wanted too, I wished it would all go in my head easier, since I knew Petyr would be asking questions about it all tonight when we got home. I couldn't look a fool in front of him.

But as the meeting went on and on, it was harder and harder to keep focused. An hour in and I was so lost it was almost a hopeless cause. My eyes drifted around the room, and landed on this Barbrey Dustin.

Nothing slipped by her. Every now and again someone would be mid-sentance and she would stop them, asking them about exact figures and what that tied into, wether that was the wisest move, what else could be done, etc, etc. She had even done it to Petyr at one point. It hadn't flustered him of course, but I couldn't say it didn't effect me.

When she was focused on the papers in front of her, I took the chance to take more of her in. What age was she? I couldn't quite tell. She was older but attractive, which meant she could be anywhere between her mid thirties to late forties, since I could at least recognise that she'd had some work done, tasteful as it may be.

Her outfit was decent, her jacket tailored. She was wearing heels, I noted. Something I would be bringing up with Petyr next time the issue of my own footwear would come up. Her bag was Hermes, but not a Birkin, which meant she was wealthy but not flashy.

I was torn between admiring her, and feeling slightly jealous, especially as I noticed Petyr's gaze tended to wander over to her too.

O0o0o00o00o0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

I was glad to finally be out of that board room and in the restaurant Petyr had chosen. Five stars, river side views, and they even had a dessert cart I could look forward too.

We'd only just settled in and given our menu's back to the waitress with our orders, when Petyr launched into his questions.

“So, how did you find it all?”

“Good” I answered, pushing my fork away from my knife, so that they lay evenly on the tablecloth.

“Good?” He echoed, placing a napkin across his lap “Good how?”

“I learnt a lot” I fibbed, knowing he could probably tell “The companies not doing as well as it should be”

“Common knowledge, and something you definitely already knew” 

“But it looks like they're going to agree to be bought out. They all liked your proposal”

“Of course they did, it promises them all a lot more money than they're seeing now. But what does it matter if Nestor Royce himself is still on the fence?” he probed. I silently slipped one of my shoes off as I kept neatening my cutlery.

“He doesn't like you. You're nouveau riche and he's old money, and it's a matter of principal that he doesn't want the company in your hands” I answered, inching my stockinged foot across the polished floors.

“Exactly, but he only holds so many shares”

Just as he said that, my foot reached out to touch his ankle. His expression didn't change as I started rubbing.

“So, you just need to convince several other shareholders to support you” I said. As he nodded, my foot stroked up and down his calf.

“Do you think I already have that support?” 

I felt him shift slightly in his chair, his legs falling wider apart, letting me move upwards.

“That awful Grafton man?” I guessed, my foot stroking along the inside of his thigh.

“Yes, that man is easier to buy off than anyone in that room, but there are two others”

“I don't know. I'd only be guessing” I muttered as I finally placed my foot against his crotch, softly to start with.

“Lyonel Corbrey” He gave up the answer easily enough, only the vaguest change in expression as I began to rub. He was still quite soft beneath his trousers but I would soon change that.

“But he was so against you in the meeting. He was almost blatantly rude to you over everything” my brow creased.

“All to keep Nestor unaware of his own associates being bought out from underneath him” he said, and I smiled, seeing how his eyes were beginning to glaze over, and the way his palm lay flat and tense on the table. I pressed my foot harder to massage his growing erection. My toes would glide against the length of him, soft and teasing, and I'd use the ball of my foot to press down and move in slow circles. I could feel him rise up slightly to meet my movements, but there was only so much he could do. That was the illicit thrill of doing these things in public. That blissful torture of arousal, without the relief of giving in to it. It was one of my favourite games, and as I grew wet myself, I remembered the time he'd fingered me in the Four Seasons hotel lounge back in London. I distinctly remembered catching eyes with a concierge who no doubt knew what we we're doing, but the poor boy could only stare and stumble away, eyes averted. Sometimes I wish he had stared longer. The look in his eyes was divine, and it had only made my heart beat faster.

I heard him suck in his breath, closing his eyes for a fraction of a second, and his coming undone gave me the small rush of power that it always did, where I said what I wanted, felt bolder than usual.

“So, what is it about that Barbrey woman that had you looking at her so much?” I said, rather slyly.

The question made him glance over at me, maybe a tad surprised.

“I've worked with her before” he said, too simply.

He didn't deny looking at her, I noted “Does that mean you've fucked her before?” I pressed down a little harder.

He smirked “Yes”

An even simpler answer, one I hadn't expected to wrench at my gut the way it did. I wouldn't have thought I'd particularly care, and I tried to make my face show as much, my foot unfaltering as it kneaded his cock. For as much as a pervert as this man was, I knew he was at least picky with his women, the ones he let get close. Not many managed.

I realised then that I liked to think myself special in that regard. 

O0o0o00o00o0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The next couple of weeks were a dreadful bore. Lots was happening very fast, at least according to Petyr. Maybe in his world. In my own, I simply followed after him to endless meetings, or filed away paper work or photocopied documents. He said I must be thorough in my guise as an intern. It was a lovely chance for him to send me down to the archival rooms, to take photos of any documents he might want to look at, but it was also a chance for more than a few male co-workers to sidle up to me, bragging about their own private offices, or their rather basic managerial positions. At least none of them asked me to fetch them a coffee, though one did invite me to have one with him.

He hadn't been bad looking, Harry, his name had been, and I was half tempted to simply slam him up against the photocopier and ride him right there and then. God knows Petyr wasn't doing me any favours these last few weeks.

After my fun at the restaurant he'd fucked me in the back of the town car on our way home, but after that, he had simply put everything he had into this Arryn Holdings debacle. We woke up early to get to the office, there were conference calls and paperwork and endless emails, visits to his office, business lunches, business dinners and business drinks. If he wasn't up all hours of the night surrounded by documents, furiously typing on his laptop, then he was out mingling with people he hated, shaking hands and making under-the-table deals. Under-the-table deals that were a lot less exciting than mine. He would arrive back home exhausted, close to midnight or even after, and even if I waited up in the sheets of our bed in next to nothing, he would whine that he was too tired to give me any sort of proper attention.

By the fifth day of feeling decidedly second place, I'd snapped that it wasn't his fault he was old and couldn't keep up with me.

I'd only said it out of childish spite, but I'd quickly lived to regret it, as he sulked for the next few days, and now I think he wasn't fucking me simply on principle. You wouldn't think so, but he could be a bit precious at times.

But now it was simply too long. I needed fucking. My own fingers weren't enough, the tumble dryer wasn't enough, hell, even my handheld vibe wasn't enough. I needed a cock. His cock. I would sit at work and clench my legs together and barely focus on anything but the need for something between my legs. I would stare out the window and daydream of being bent over double this very desk, and I would realise just what a dreadful slut he had made of me.

But then if I was of his making, you'd think he would have a responsibility to me. You couldn't get a cat hooked on cream and then take it away when it developed a taste for it.

But it simply wouldn't do to beg for his cock, not straight away, because that's what he wanted. I'd bruised his ego, and he wanted a simpering apology from his little girl. Perhaps I'd give it to him, eventually, but not without my own fun.

So as I knew he was in the bedroom, talking on the phone, in what he had described as a very important conference call that could not be disturbed, I pranced down the hall and pushed open the door with a kind of wicked glee in my smile.

He was sitting in the alcove window, phone pressed to his ear, with the long drapes pulled back so he could lean over the open window and smoke. I'd read somewhere that menthols could be just as addictive as normal cigarettes, but I had gotten used to that slight taste of mint and smoke they left in his mouth.

He looked up when he saw me, and maybe my smile was what made his eyebrow rise up in question, instead of just looking annoyed.

“Of course. Naturally” He said, to whoever was on the other end of the line, his eyes never leaving me as I drifted across the room.

I acted coy, my outfit of choice being carefully chosen, as most of my outfits were.  
A silk chiffon dress in pale pink, the skirt was short but full, with tulle underneath. I'd bought it since it was the kind of perfect princess dress I'd never grown out of loving, conjuring up images of ballerinas and girlish innocence, though that illusion was slightly tempered by the low cut neckline, and the fact that I wasn't wearing a bra. I didn't look down, but by the way the open window had let the breeze into the room, I knew my nipples could be seen hard through the silk.

“Yes...yes, I'll have someone email the drafts to you tomorrow” Petyr said, phone still held resolutely to his ear as I did a couple of twirls, letting my skirt fly up around my hips, and letting him know that I was up to something.

He could most likely tell already, as his mouth was a thin line. What a little brat I was.

I flounced over to the dresser across the room, dropping down to the carpet to the bottom drawer. I made sure he had a view as I pulled it open, leaning forwards on my knees. I could feel the hem of my dress rise up above my ass, as I arched my back, and made a show of looking for what I needed. The bottom drawer was where we kept the toys. My knickers were plain and white, but I chose the pair that rode up between my cheeks. A lovely frame for a lovely ass. I didn't look back over my shoulder, since I didn't doubt he was looking.

“No, the Lannisters aren't aware, Cersei has nothing to do with the merger” I could hear him in the background as I grabbed my vibe.

Before I met Petyr I thought vibrators were those big awful things. Plastic replica cocks with tacky, sculpted veins. Nothing I'd want near me. Then he'd taken me shopping, almost tricked me into slipping into one of those dark windowed sex shops before I could protest, and true, there were tacky replica cocks, as well all sorts of other things that had made me blush when I'd seen them, but then there was this one. It was small, maybe a bit bigger than a lipstick, and unassuming. I wasn't sold at the time he insisted on buying it, but by the time he had me home and on my back, it was my new favourite thing.

I shut the drawer and stood up, making my way to the bed.

I saw Petyr crane his neck to see what I had in my hand, and as he saw it, his face hardened. He gave me his strongest warning look. His usual genial expression could look fierce when he wanted it too, but oh, he was stupid to think that look did anything but excite me now.

I bounced back onto the bed, my legs kicking into the air around my skirts, and I had to hold in a laugh as I still heard him muttering on the phone, unable to hang up. Unable to tell me to stop as I rolled over onto my stomach, arching again, this time towards him so he could see me bite my lip. I thought back to being like a cat after her cream. I was more like a cat in heat, a kitten wanting to play.

“Yes....yes, she's signed it. She's on board”

I brushed my hair out my face as I stretched my hands out over the bed covers, on my knees, spread apart so I could slip my hand underneath myself and reach my pussy.

The hum of the vibrator filled the room, and I was already excited enough that the effect was instant. I shuddered as I held it over the front of my knickers.

Petyr couldn't see anything, not with my dress still on, but he could see my mouth gape. I gave the softest little moan. I couldn't overdo it, he abhorred fake moaning. He much preferred my little pants and gasps, which came easily as I pressed harder and found the perfect spot that made my body quiver.

“What?...No, that's still....that's still a work in progress”

I chanced a look at him and I could see the irritation and mingling lust in his expression, and the pull of his trousers where his erection had risen.

“Yes....yes...”

His voice never cracked, but by his increasingly monosyllabic answers, I knew he was losing focus. Good. I was losing mine. I know I said I wouldn't resort to begging so quickly, but I wanted him now.

I moved in a flurry, sitting up on my knees and falling back to lean against the pillows. I raised my skirts well up to my waist and raised my legs in the air, so I could pull off my knickers. I could see wetness glistening the fabric as I threw them off the side of the bed, splaying my legs, baring myself completely. I was quickly back to working on myself, my hips rising off the bed. I was already close to coming I was so desperate.

It was gratuitous. It was whorish. I caught his eyes and I needed him to see my desperation, a look of silent begging. That I needed him, that I was his little girl that needed attention, his touch, his cock.

There was only a few more muffled words, drowned in my ears by my own growing cries, before I heard the phrase I'd been waiting for.

“I'll call you back tomorrow”

He'd barely hung up the phone, and dropped it back on the cushions, before he had strode over to the end of the bed. I gasped as he grabbed me roughly by my ankle and dragged me down the covers, so that my ass slammed into his crotch as he stood above me, leaning down, real anger on his face.

“You fucking brat” was the first thing he said to me.

His voice never rose to a shout. Never had I heard him lose control, and I wasn't hearing it now. He was furious at me, I knew, but he was always controlled, even as I felt his cock press against me fiercely as he held my firmly by the hips, he was controlled.

“I told you that phone call was important. Very important. That man on the other end of that phone could make or break everything I have worked for for the past year, and I sounded like a damn idiot thanks to you” he seethed.

“I'm sorry, daddy, was it hard to pay attention-”

I gasped as he struck me across the face, then grabbed me roughly by the chin so I was forced to look back at him. I stared at him in shock for a moment before my own anger surged through me. I lashed back at him, hitting him in his chest, getting in a few thrashes until he grabbed my arms, but I only kicked my legs, struggled against him. I wasn't strong, and even his wiry arms were able to lift me and pin me back down on the bed as I cried out in defiance, a petulant child throwing her tantrum. He was stony faced as he fended off all my pitiful slaps.

“This is all for you, you know that? Don't you? All that I'm doing now, running myself ragged, moving around the country, making deals, it's all for you. For your benefit, and you're not even grateful”

“Get off me” I cried, tears welling up in my eyes as I felt stupid, and ignored, and needy and selfish, realising that he wasn't playing, that he wasn't happy with me. 

There was a shift. He moved off me but pulled me with him, and I still struggled weakly as I realised what he was doing, as he turned me over, dragging me over his lap.

“No!” I whimpered, just before the first strike hit my ass and I let out a cry. Then another and another. His slaps were hard, harder than they usually were when we played at this. I didn't want to do this now, not when I knew there was real anger behind his blows, and not when I knew I would still like it.

“Please-” I begged, my face pressed to the sheets as I gasped between hits. I had already been close to coming from the vibrator, and my pussy was aching and swollen without release. Another hard slap low on my ass reverberated through me and I clenched my legs together, my knees digging into the mattress, Petyr's erection pressing against my stomach. 

“Daddy!” I cried out again, but was it a cry to stop when I knew in my mind it would only drive him on further, to drive him to hit me harder. Yes, yes please, more, harder, yes Daddy, please, I chanted in my mind, maybe out loud, I didn't know, I was in such a state. My emotions, my arousal, my own sense of shame of just how sick this all was, and how close I was to coming.

As if he knew, like he always knew everything, I felt him shove his fingers into my pussy. He wasn't gentle as he began pumping in and out of me roughly, fucking me with his fingers, making me shriek and howl as he curled them up, hitting that sweet spot inside of me, as I came quickly and messily over his hand, jerking over his lap.

Eventually my body went limp above his, breathing heavily, still shuddering as his grip softened tentatively.

Then it was just us and our breathing and silence. I could have moved off him, but I didn't. I lay there across his lap feeling weak in more ways than one.

“What caused all this?” he asked finally “You don't usually act like this, Sansa”

I didn't want to look at him, and turned my head firmly away. He knew why 

“You've been ignoring me” I said, hating how it sounded.

He was silent for a moment.

“You know I've been busy”

“....ok” was all I said. Was all I could muster up.

“Sansa-” he said, and I hated how weary he sounded, and I felt more of a burden than anything. That was the worst feeling of all, worse than the sting of his slaps, but the sting that maybe he'd had me and I wasn't special anymore. He'd said that to me once, once he'd gotten something he wanted, he always wanted something else. He'd had me and was done with me. I was only here for the sake of business, nothing more.

“If you only need me for the business, for my families company, just tell me” My voice cracked “You don't have to pretend to like me, to fuck me, while we do all this, not if you don't want too! I Won't leave, I'll still...I don't...”

I don't have anyone else. It hurt too much to think about, let alone say. My parents, my brothers, my sister...without Petyr I was alone in the world, and lost more than ever. At least with him I had a path. I had a goal. I had someone to touch, to hold me, to stroke my hair and tell me I was his girl. His girl, his voice echoed in my head. I really was his at this point. I'd changed, everything around me had changed, and I couldn't go back. I was what he wanted, and if he didn't want me anymore, what was I then?

He let out a long sigh, and dropped his head to rest it against the crook of my neck “Oh, you silly girl....you, silly, silly girl”

“Don't!” I cried again, at the affection in his voice. If it was fake I didn't want it, and it was wrong to tease me with it.

“Sansa, look at me” He didn't grab my chin this time. Instead he stroke his thumb over my cheek, and he brushed at my tears and waited until I turned my face to glance up at him.

“I adore you.... I obsess over you. You're my girl.....you're my girl” he whispered with such reverence, and I hated how it sucked me in. How easily those words reached me.

I was so weak for him. I could only hope he was weak for me too.

“When I said I'm doing all of this for you, I meant it. I have wants of my own, yes. I do a lot for myself, I won't lie, but the one thing I want above all of them is you” 

His words had a warmth to them. A perverse warmth, but a warmth nonetheless.

“I am grateful.... I am grateful, daddy, I am” I said, weakly.

I sat up in his lap, and his arms enveloped my waist, and I encircled his neck.

We looked at each other, and we knew we wouldn't say sorry. Me for playing with him, him for slapping me. This wasn't a moment where we would say we loved one another either. Both of these things were not us. Love and apologies wasn't what tied us together and we knew it. It was ambition. Lust. Need. Nothing healthy. Nothing I'd ever imagined love as being, but it was no less strong in my mind. There was no other man on this earth who could be my lover, my family and my father like he could, and I was the only one who could be his partner, his slut and his daughter. We were everything to each other, and nothing to everyone else. That's what made us weak and that's what made us strong.

I kissed him and I never wanted to know what anyone else's definition of love was, because what we had was more.


	2. Chapter 2

Petyr took me shopping on the weekend, an apology of sorts. It was fun to roam boutiques and try things on again, because since I'd been Alayne I'd mostly had to purchase anything I wanted online. True, we were away from London and the risks were slim, but It still wasn't wise to go out alone in the city, or even a local Westfield. Petyr wouldn't let me take the risk, just in case, and no matter how much I wanted to venture out on my own, I knew it was smarter to have him with me. Perhaps I would be paranoid without him by my side. His presence made me stronger. It was that feeling he exuded, like he was ten steps ahead of everyone. He was a man undefeated and it made me feel safe.

He dutifully followed me as I dragged him from shop to shop, and as he indulged me, I indulged him. I would admire a pair of shoes, or a bag, and he would have the shop assistant bring to the counter without even checking the price tag, and I would make a show of gasping, telling him he couldn't possibly, it was too much, he'd already spoiled me enough. I played as if I was not used to such fine things, though we both knew I'd had them since the day I was born. It was a subtle form of a masturbation to him, I came to realise. He'd been a boy with nothing, who had now risen to a man who could truly waste and indulge like a true aristocrat, all while I hung off his arm and whispered 'thank you, daddy' in his ear.

“This one?” I asked, pulling back the curtain of the change room.

Petyr sat on a courtesy lounge, and looked up to survey me. 

“Very nice” he said, taking in the plain black front of the dress, and he admired it even more as I turned around to show him the low hanging back “Another inch and it'd be lewd. Another two inches and I could have you here and now”

I gave him a small smile as he stepped over to me in the change rooms, and I moved back as he followed me inside, quick to close the curtains behind us.

He wouldn't really fuck me now, would he? Not with the shop assistants outside. One could come back at any moment. His hand dropped to my waist , and I laughed from nerves, the knot in my stomach, and my growing excitement.

He turned me around and stood behind me, and we looked at each other through the reflection of the mirror. The dress almost looked demure from the front, but I could feel Petyr trace a finger down my spine and my pussy clenched almost involuntarily in anticipation.

“Do you like it?” He said against my neck before he planted a kiss there.

“I do...” I said, his hands coming around my front and dragging up my thighs “But where would I wear it? It's a ball dress, we don't go to balls”

“Should we start?” he asked, his hand trailing lower and lower.

“We could...ah...” I lost my train of thought, all sense of witty banter leaving me quickly as he'd dipped his hand down below the material of my dress and grabbed at the flesh of my ass “Petyr, people will hear”

“That depends on how much noise you make” He chuckled, his hand kneading at me “Do you think you could be a good girl and keep quiet for me?”

One of his fingers grazed over my pussy and I bit my lip and nodded, my heart beating faster.

“Good girl...” he said, as he pushed me forward into the mirror, where I caught myself with my hands as I was pressed into it. I stifled a gasp as his hand dipped down to rub between my legs, the pads of his finger running over the lips of my pussy.

I pushed back on the mirror with my hands, so that I could arch my back, push out my ass, spread myself for his hand. My breathing grew shallow as I willed myself not to make a sound, but I looked up and saw myself in the reflection. Could see Petyr behind me. He wasn't focused on his hands, he was looking at me. As we caught eyes he pressed his finger into me and I whimpered, I couldn't help it.

“Shhh” he pressed another finger into me “I thought I told you to be quiet” he said, though he sounded pleased with himself. He started thrusting his fingers in and out of me, eliciting slick sounds, even as he started slow. God, he was doing it on purpose, stretching me, so that I was sucking in air and pushing it out again, making the most awful of noises.

"Stop it.." I whispered, burning scarlet.

"Stop what? Stop touching you?" He teased.

No. No I definitely didn't want that "No, just...they'll hear us"

"You're the one talking, sweetling" He said, as he pulled out his fingers and stroked me again, spreading my wetness so that his fingers could rub hard over my clit. At that, I moaned "See? What a loud girl you are. Can't even follow instructions. I think you want to get caught” he rasped, his fingers still relentless, as I feared the curtain being pulled back on us at any moment “You want them to catch us, to see you like this, red faced and shameful. See the shock on their faces as they see the little slut you really are”

I didn't say anything, focusing with everything I had not to let out any more cries, but he was right. My fear was real but so was the way my body flushed at the thought. A strangers eyes on my body in heat. Would they be aroused by the sight of me? Would they grow hard for me, get wet for me? I grew drunk on the thought of having such a sexual power, to make people weak before me.

I cried out as I came, and avoided the eyes of the shop staff as we paid for the dress and left.

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The next time Petyr decided to bring up this particular little kink of mine was in his office, when I came in as Alayne to drop some files on his desk.

“So-” he said across his desk at me before I could leave, his business voice still very much in place “What are we going to do about these increasingly voyeuristic whims of yours?”

I blinked “Voyeuristic?”

“You wanting an audience when you fuck, sweetling” he smiled.

I blushed, and he pushed out his his chair, an invitation to take to his lap. Most of the newer top floor offices at Arryn Holdings were very modern, the walls mostly made of sheets of glass. Petyr had been offered one at first, but he'd turned it down, playing modest, saying he didn't want to displace any current associates. He had taken a walled office on the next floor down, the only glass being tall windows that looked out to the sky, solely because he could get away with more.

Even now it was almost embarrassing to admit that my mind still wandered to the thought of some high rise window washers, lowering themselves down to catch me bent over this desk, my knickers around my ankles.

I sat in Petyr's lap, making myself comfortable as he shifted to take my weight on his knees. I felt like a bashful daughter, urged on by her father to tell him just what was on her mind.

His hands roamed over my knees and my legs, and his touch soothed me a little.

“You were very wet in that chang eroom the other day, so I know you like these little games” he spoke to me lowly “In restaurants, in cars...I saw the way you were shifting about in the elevator this morning, as if you could barely contain yourself. I thought you might jump me any second and have me fuck you before the doors opened”

My head shot up “Could we, daddy?” and that made him laugh, tucking me under the chin.

“You are turning into a little risk taker, aren't you?” he smiled at me, and I beamed inside at how proud he sounded “But we don't want to get you arrested for public indecency, now, do we?”

“But we haven't gotten in trouble for it so far...” I pouted, hoping this wasn't him asking me to stop.

“No, we haven't, luckily, but I don't know how far you want to take these little games...” he led on, and I pawed at his chest.

“What other games are there, daddy? What else could we do?”

I could feel him shift, and I moved my weight to press onto his budding erection.

“Well...what if I took you back up to one of those boardrooms, with the clear glass wall along the side? I could have you against the table, and anyone who happened to walk down the hall would see us. I bet they'd like that, they'd all wish they were fucking you”

“Like Mr. Grafton. He's always staring at me” I giggled.

“He is, the old bastard. What he wouldn't give just to look at your face as I made you cum. He'd probably suffer a stroke from all the blood rushing to his cock at once”

That made me laugh even more as I moved my hand down between us to rub over the front of his pants.

“You could have me sit on the desk, make me spread my legs, and finger me from behind so they could all see. Not just Mr. Grafton, all of them” I whispered excitedly, gripping his cock through his pants.

“There, that's what you want, isn't it? To show of your perfect pussy, all pink and plump and wet. Have them all touch themselves for you, in front of you, cocks in their hands” We were both smiling together at our mad little joke, as he reached to undo his belt, and I tugged at the waistband of his pants in my haste to take him in my hand. He hissed as I grabbed him, squeezed him hard around his shaft before I started stroking up and down the soft skin of his cock.

“They'll come for you, they'll lose all sense of themselves for you, but you won't let them touch, will you? They can only look, only wish they could fuck you” 

“Yes, daddy” I mumbled, spitting onto my hand to make my hands glide better over his cock, like he'd taught me.

“Because who does your pussy belong to? Who's the only one allowed to fuck you?” he rasped, jerking up off his chair as I ran my thumb over the tip of him in slow, undulating circles.

“You daddy” I whispered, my lips close to his as we breathed raggedly together, my hand pumping against him, his hardness thick in my hand.

It was ruined by the door opening, and at the sound of the latch, I all but jumped off of his lap, my eyes wide as I stumbled to my feet.

Barbrey Dustin stood in the doorway, taking a step back in surprise as she took in the scene.

I couldn't form words, only burned bright red, while Petyr sat straight in chair and tucked himself back away in his trousers, looking a lot less concerned than I did, but at least a little taken a back too.

“Well, I see the office rumours of you fucking your little intern are true” Barbrey said eventually, moving to close the door behind her with a click.

She only glanced at me, with my flustered expression and crumpled skirt, before turning back to Petyr.

“You should knock. It's polite” he smiled tightly at her, as I tried to make sense of what was going to happen. I decided I liked the fantasy of getting caught a lot more than I liked the reality, but with each passing second, I felt less and less like we we're in any kind of trouble...

“Petyr..?” I tried, and they both looked at me, seeing my worry.

“Don't worry, sweetling. Barbrey is our friend. This will all stay in this room, I assure you” and I saw him give a swift look to Barbrey. A silent warning.

She gave a little shrug, as if she supposed she could keep her mouth shut if she had too. This woman who was supposed to be our friend.

“Anyway-” she turned to me “I'm sorry to interrupt you're fun, Petyr, but If you could give us a moment alone, darling? Me and Mr. Baelish have some things to discuss”

I frowned at her dismissal, but Petyr was quick to intervene.

“She can stay for this, Barbrey”

He earned a pointed look “Oh, can she? I think you know what I want to discuss?”

Petyr smiled, more to himself than anything “I do, and I think it's more than appropriate for her to be here. Barbrey, meet Sansa Stark”

Barbrey conveyed more surprise over that than when she'd caught me with Petyr's slicked up cock in my hand, and even then it wasn't that expressive. My face, however, had frozen.

What was he doing?! Nobody could know, absolutely nobody, he had said! Everyone had to know me as Alayne, Sansa was missing...it was a secret. Our secret, just us, and now he had blurted it out to this Barbrey women?

Reason told me this was part of something, a plan, a foil...something. Petyr wouldn't be so stupid, I knew that, but I was fuming that I was not in on it. 

Barbrey looked me up and down again, perhaps seeing me in a new light. I tried to stand up a little taller. I'm sure I was not looking kindly at her.

“Well....isn't this a twist” she said, with a humourless laugh back at Petyr “And here I thought she was nothing more than your mid-life crisis. You'll have to forgive me If I don't feel like shaking your hand right now, darling...maybe after you've washed it”

Petyr had once told me my glare was one of the sharpest he'd ever seen, and I hope Barbrey was learning that now.

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“I don't like her” I said, in no un-certain terms, as I lay with Petyr in bed.

He was sat up against the head board, laptop in his lap, documents once more littered on his side of the bed as I was curled up under the sheets.

“Oh, really? I couldn't tell” he muttered, seemingly amused, as he didn't look up from his work.

I wriggled about under the sheets, shifting position, pulling the comforter up even higher under my chin.

“So how do you know we can trust her?” I asked.

“I don't trust anyone” He said, rather pedantically. The way he said 'trust' made it sound as if it was some dirty word.

“Well, why do you trust her more than anyone else, then?” 

He seemed to think on his answer for a moment “I've known her a long time. She's a smart women, and she keeps her word more often than not. And more importantly, our best interests suit her best interests. She doesn't like Roose Bolton anymore than we do...her company has always backed your families company....she'll be a help to us, sweetling”

I didn't have any reason not to believe him, other than the fact that I couldn't get her derogatory look out of my mind. I'm sure she would be a help, she was ever so smart and savvy and successful of course...

“She might want to help my families company, but she seems to hate me”

Petyr gave a light wave of his hand “I wouldn't take it personally. Barbrey tends to dislike most people, it's just her way. Give her time to warm up to you”

I decided to let the conversation end there, for fear that I would start asking questions. How long ago did you fuck her, was she your girlfriend, how old was she really. He would only see it as jealousy, and I didn't want to look petty over it all. I also didn't want to give her any of my time. I didn't want to warm up to her. 

As I lay there with my eyes closed, drifting in and out of sleep, until finally I heard the clatter of Petyr getting up and ready for bed himself, I realised that mostly I was upset that someone else had been brought into our fold. What minimal amount of trust Petyr had in himself, he had doled out some of that to her. As I heard the click of the bedside lamp go out, and felt him slide under the covers, I was quick to nestle to his side. Not for sex. For comfort mostly, as well as a faint possessiveness that hid risen up inside me. I pressed myself into his chest, and he draped an arm over me. We fit together well, just him and me.


	3. Chapter 3

Mornings are never interesting. Mornings are just routines, automatic motions we go through, wether they take fifteen minutes, or an hour, until we feel somewhat like a person again. Often I don't feel like a proper person until I find myself under the jet of a shower, and stand there for a good twenty minutes, until my fingers start to prune and the steam in the bathroom is suffocating.

Then I get out, wander over to the basin, stare in the mirror, and take another look at the vulgar, ugly, visually offensive scar that travels down the entirety of my torso.

It never gets any better to look at. The course hair on my chest is interrupted, looking unsightly as it grows over either side, while the marred skin stand out even more in the centre, all fleshy and still discoloured to this day. A horrid dark line that splits down my skin and dents it inwards, some places worse than others. It is not at all a good look on my stomach. It reminiscent of those cuts of meat in the butchers window, wrapped in twine too tightly so that the flesh bulges out , looking too tender and raw. I am lucky I am still lean. I should hope I don't get flabby as I get older, It would make an even more appalling sight. 

I move to get dressed before I throw the toothbrush holder at the mirror. That happened once, on a bad day.

I abhor looking dull. Black and grey and navy suits are essential to my profession, but I would much rather wear my McQueen silk patterned jacket, lovely colours on that one, but flamboyancy is not often appreciated in the financial district. Still, my navy three piece suit is embellished with a jacquard pocket square, and I decide on a whim to match my fluer-de-lis tie with my fluer-de-lis socks. No one was likely to see the stylistic touch, but I wriggled my toes, and it perked me up all the same. 

I make my way back through the vast walk in closet to the bedroom, where I cannot hear the shower in the ensuite running, and the little lump under the covers has not budged since I untangled myself from her.

Now, if we were at home back in London, I would have kella to wake her up with a lovingly prepared breakfast. But we are not home, and one can't bring the help with them when smuggling heiresses undetected throughout the country, as good as their savoury crepes may be. So it is up to me to try and tempt her out every morning.

“Up” I instruct “Morning. Rise and shine. Time to face the day.”

I run on as I open the curtains, light spilling into the room.

There is a little muffled noise of discontent.

“Don't want to go.”

Sansa may have enjoyed the novelty of a working life for all of a week, but by now she had realised that the life of a privileged heiress suited her much better.

I pulled back the covers so at least the top of her head, buried in a pillow as it was, could be seen. Her dark hair was a pleasantly dishevelled mess, but I still missed the red. Ah. At least she should be able to go back to it soon enough, if a few transfers manage to find the right off shore accounts, and the right people agree to a few bribes I've been offering, and Cersei's trial continues to go downhill. If that all goes off without a hitch, and a few more bodies are added to the count, then we'd be able to go home, and able to have all the savoury crepes we'd like.

“You're my assistant intern, you have to go. Who else will answer my phone, and file my papers, and bend over coyly in front of my desk to give a bit of kick to my day?”

“Harry can do it.”

“But he doesn't look as good in a pencil skirt as you do.”

She finally turned up her head towards me, and I really shouldn't have looked. Big blue eyes, eyelashes that were entirely too long, and a pout that she had perfected to extract just the right amount of twisting in my gut. She had definitely practised this look, I was sure of it.

“I don't feel well”

She didn't even bother to sound convincing. Instead she used her sugar sweet voice, one she usually reserved for drawing out sexual favours, which wasn't entirely un-convincing in itself.

“Well, you'll have to call the boss and tell him your sick, and hope he's in a good mood.” I said.

She pulled back the covers, and brought a hand to her ear, thumb and pinky out as a mock phone “Ring ring.” she chimed.

“Baelish speaking.” I put my own hand to my ear in a similar fashion, self aware enough to know that this was all sickeningly adorable, and I would have been entirely ashamed of myself under normal circumstances, but as the covers had pulled back I was able to see her hardened nipples under her thin camisole, so I excused myself a little. I am an extraordinary man, but still a man, after all. And they are very extraordinary nipples.

“I can't come in today. I'm sick.” 

She let a tragic little fake cough.

“You're a fucking dreadful liar Miss. Stone, and you'll see the end of my belt in my office for this poor attitude and breach of your contractual duties.”

Ah. There. I knew I wouldn't be able to do cute for long.

She gave me a withered look, mimed hanging up the phone into the mattress "You didn't even get the reference..." she muttered, before slinking back down under the duvet.

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“There isn't a little intern hiding under your desk with a cock in her mouth, is there?” Was the first thing Barbrey felt the need to say as she stepped into my office.

“No, the little intern wasn't feeling very well today.” I answer, making a point to barely look up from the paper I was reading.

“Tch.” Barbrey laughed, choosing to wander over to the sofa I had by the side of the room, rather than sitting in one of the leather chairs in front of my desk. She knows they're the ones designed very low to the ground, with shorter legs at the front than the back, so as to give the sitter a generally feeling of unease as they sat before me.

“What's wrong with her then?” she says, with her usual soft Barbrey charm, which is about as soft as nails on a chalkboard.

“Migraine.” I say, reaching for the next paper in the pile I had on my desk.

“I'm sure.” she nods to the papers, seeing the headlines of the articles I was pulling out and setting aside “Any new developments?”

“Not really. Cersei was seen wearing the latest Calvin Klein ladies suit to the courthouse last Thursday, despite the bankruptcy allegations, and that's really the most interesting thing they can come up with. Nothing else is leaking out to the public, as of yet.”

“And what's been leaking out to you?”

I set aside another paper to pick up the next, wondering if she really thinks all my cards will be displayed with such weak provocation? She must be feeling lazy this morning. I don't feel like rewarding her for it “Nothing needs to be leaked, it's all obvious enough. Even if Cersei manages her way out of jail time, she's got no more money and a couple of dis-inherited children, Jamie's out of the country, and Tyrion Lannister is wanted for the murder of his own father, who was really the only member of that family who even held anything together. The Lannister's are over, and everyone can see it.” 

“Hm, Roose has been worrying as much.”

“On a first name basis, are we?” I may have asked with a raised eyebrow or two.

“Oh, Petyr, save me the tone.” she chastised.

“Tone? What tone? Did I inflect some kind of surprise at the level of familiarity you now have towards mob boss, come polititican, Roose Bolton? You've clearly had a nice chat about the future of his criminal enterprise, turned campaign party, now that he doesn't have Tywin Lannister funding him. Did you discuss it over brunch?”

Barbrey fixed me with a look that was half bored, half disdainful, and most annoyingly, very knowing “He killed Cat. You're still angry. I get it”

To my own commendation, I barely bristled.

“Is there any particular reason for the visit, Barbrey?”

“I said it when I came in, I wanted to know if there was an intern hiding under your desk. I had another job for her.”

My eyebrows made their way up again “Another? That's to imply you've had jobs for her before?” 

“Yes, I've been borrowing her for a few things while you've been at meetings and such. Making use of her, so she's not just lounging in here reading an issue of Glamour or Teen Vogue.”

She put a special little emphasis on the word 'teen', just for me. Funny, Sansa hadn't said a thing about doing anything for Barbrey. I couldn't imagine she'd want too, or that she wouldn't complain about it at length if she had.

“And what were these jobs? What did you want her for now?”

“General intern work. Reconciling some balance sheet accounts, preparing some related documentation” She said, crisply.

“You know she's not actually qualified to do any sort of-”

“I know. But it can't hurt her to learn. She won't be pretty for her whole life, she may as well learn a skill while she's here.”

“No wonder Sansa is playing sick today.” I mutter. Then I saw Barbrey's lip twitch up in what could be considered a smile, but to me seemed like nothing but a bad omen, and it un-eased me greatly.

“What? What is it?”

“It's just amusing.” Barbrey shook her head, and I cursed myself for falling into whatever this was.

“What's amusing?” I asked, as she stood to saunter over to my desk, hands smoothing over her skirt, that I had to admit still fit over her thin hips quite nicely 

“That this little teenage girl has you wrapped around her little finger”

I scoffed, indignant “Oh, yes, she's quite the powerful little manipulator. Pretending she's sick to get out of work? God, what will her next scheme be, I dread to think.”

Barbrey still looked smug “You laugh, but I'm sure she has her ways.”

“She's an orphan, with no access to her own accounts until she's twenty one, accounts that I will be in charge of soon enough once the courts clear me as her legal uncle and guardian, and furthermore-”

“Yes, yes, you're the big clever man, who controls all the money and all the companies, and the Stark heir and all her holdings, but, and this is a very big but-” Barbrey came close enough to prod a well manicured finger to my chest “-you give her everything she wants. Clothes, shoes, nights out, attention, days off. I bet she pouts when she asks for things. Blinks with her big blue eyes?”

My mouth twisted and my hand went to Barbrey's waist as she stood before me. I could stand up, but there wouldn't be much use, as I still wouldn't be taller than her. 

“I give her everything she thinks she wants.” I say, pointedly.

“What about when she wants a little more, hm? Right now you've earned yourself a happy little prize, who's happy to do what you say, and fuck when you want too, and take what you give her, but what about when she starts asking for more? She might only do it slowly, so you don't even realise how much you let her get away with, but you may find yourself unable to say no, especially if she just gets better and better at asking-”

“Where are you going with this, Barbrey?” her words have, I'll admit, some merit to them, but her hand has found it's way into my hair, and I'm at a very nice level with her breasts, and all of a sudden I'm remembering a very fun romp in Amsterdam that took place ten years ago.

“Nip it in the bud, stop spoiling her so much, or she'll be trouble down the line.”

“As touching as it is for you to worry about me, and how I may be taken advantage of by a teenage girl, but you've known her for all of just over a week, and you've known me for much longer. I like to think my reputation for ruthless pragmatism, and systematic manipulation of those around me still stands, so-”

“You're right, I have known you for a long time, and I know that you also tend to ramble, and use some of your bigger words, when you know I have a point.”

“.....you know it's rude to cut people off mid-sentance.”

Her finger dragged under my chin “Just don't forget that you're using her, and not the other way around.”

My hand may have travelled down to her backside, but in all fairness, she was the one who kissed me first.

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I made the effort to arrive back at the apartment relatively early by my standards. Close to six PM. The least of my worries was that Sansa might be bored cooped up all by herself. A more credible worry was that she would sneak out to un-bore herself. I wasn't exactly paranoid about the Boltons finding her, not when I had such credible decoys and fake plane trips in her name being made in Paris as we speak, but caution shouldn't exactly be thrown to the wind.

Of course, when I made my way in, the TV was blaring, and Sansa seemed to have pulled herself from our bed simply to nestle herself on the sofa. She'd even dragged the duvet with her. I don't think she had even changed out of her pyjamas.

“Feeling better?” I chided, my leather case being dropped in the hall, and my necktie being pulled off as I spoke.

“Much” she said, glancing over the back of the sofa.

I ducked down my head to kiss her, and I felt quite domestic. I'd say it was almost like playing husband and wife, but it really still felt much more like a sweet daughter welcoming her father home, though I understand if that analogy might make you more uncomfortable. 

I shrugged off my blazer “Did you do anything with yourself? Tell me you didn't spend nine hours rotting in front of TV.”

“It wasn't nine hours. I only got up at one.” she said, a foot dangling over the edge of the cushions.

“Dreadful.” I muttered, kicking off my shoes.

“Well, what could I have done? There's hardly much to do around here.”

“You could have read a book,” I said, all at once running out of other things to suggest in the next second “Or at least fixed yourself something to eat.”

“I made toast.” she protested weakly.

“The only thing you know how to make.” I said, undoing my belt buckle.

It was then Sansa noticed my lack of tie, discarded shoes, and my hands at the waist band of my pants.

“What, right now?” she asked, a laugh on her tongue, as I lowered myself down onto the sofa in answer, and she shifted to fit under me.

“It's not like you can't lack the energy, a little movement might do you good.” I pressed kisses at her neck as I pulled away the duvet covers. She was all lovely and warm and languid and inviting. Her kisses were lazy, but I could feel her legs open up all the same, her arms draping over my shoulders, and I all but melted into her. I was hard fast enough, already eager and left wanting from this morning, thanks to Barbrey. There was still an annoying amount of fabric in the way, but I ground my erection over her thin pyjama shorts ,until her hips started to buck up to meet mine, and her kisses became a little more fervently, and finally the tiniest of moans left her lips.

I moved down, and scooched her ass up the sofa a bit, to her surprise. If there was an even more lovely and warm and inviting place, it was between a woman's thighs, but as I tugged down at her pyjamas and went to bury my face between them, Sansa let out a little whine.

“No, no,” she pushed weakly at my head, squirming “Don't, I'm all gross.”

“Mm, filthy.” I muttered, nose pressing into the cotton of her knickers, but my head only got a more severe push.

“No, really I haven't showered yet,” she tried to close her legs against me, to my dismay “I have to wash first.”

“No you don't, you're fine.” I tried to argue, fingers perhaps kneading into the outside of her legs a tad impatiently.

“It won't taste nice...”

“I'll decide that for myself.” I huffed.

There was only another little whine, but not one of pleasure “Petyr, really, I don't-” but she was cut off by her own shriek, as I picked her up.

I may have had to stifle a groan, as I was not a man designed for physical exertion. I was only so lucky she's a light little thing, and that she had the sense to grip onto my shoulders and wrap her legs tightly around my waist as I carried her. I would like to think I looked quite the manly show of rugged strength, but I was struggling by the time I made it to the bathroom, and Sansa was laughing by the time I placed her down.

“Honestly, you can barely take care of yourself.” I said, wasting no time as I pulled the thin straps of her top from her shoulders, pulling it down her waist, along with her shorts and knickers, so she was bare with one good tug, leaving the clothes on the cold tiles. I saw her body shiver a little, goosebumps along her skin, but she smiled.

“But I have you to take care of me, don't I daddy?”

“Oh, yes,” I murmured “My good, good girl gets well taken care of.” I knelt before her and pressed my face to her pussy, inhaling the smell of her, tongue darting out for but the breifest of tastes, making her gasp and laugh before I pulled back, giving her ass a slap that echoed off the tiled walls.

“Now, get in the bath. We'll get you clean.”

She got in, ever so obediently, as I turned the taps on and I wished Barbrey was here to see this. See how good she is with me? She should see how good she looked too, her pale skin flushing red as the hot water pooled around her.

“Aren't you going to ask me how my day was?” I said, rolling up my sleeves to the elbow and grabbing soap from the counter, dipping it into the water to lather it up.

“How was your day today, daddy?” Sansa swivelled where she sat, and found her legs long enough to dangle over the sides of the tub as as she pressed her back against the tiled wall. Then she slowly spread her legs, pussy angled up towards me, and I was drawn in by how pink it looked against the white of her skin, and the porcelain of the bath.

“Good...” I almost hummed “People in the office were asking where you were all day. I think they're going to miss Alayne when she leaves.”I began working over her with my hands, the soap making them glide so effortlessly over her already smooth body. It became almost rhythmic, up over her breasts, pushing them together, then trailing down her stomach, dipping between her legs to rub over her mound and her thighs, then I'd move up again, repeating the motion, leaving white suds all over. She made a little noise to show she liked that.

“Daddy, what am I....what am I going to do when I can't come with you to work anymore?”

Up and down and up and down I rubbed “Be rather bored I suppose.”

“You could stay home with me.” She writhed under my touch “I won't be bored if you played sick, too.”

I tweaked her nipple at that “I don't need to play sick, I'm my own boss.”

“Perfect, then you will, then?” she smiled so innocently and so deviously at the same time “You, and me, and all our time to ourselves.” she declared grandly.

“And what would we do, exactly? Sleep in all afternoon and fuck all evening?” I said, not disliking the sound of that, actually.

“We could go out to bars too.” and at that, I laughed.

The water sloshed around the tub as Sansa pulled in her legs, rising up on her knees to put her dripping arms around me, face coming close to mine as she kissed me lovingly on the lips.

“Museums, and restaurants, and shops, and galleries, and everywhere, just us.” she whispered, and as she kissed me again, I had to say I was quite taken with the idea, so I kissed her back with fervour.

I could feel her pulling, her wet hands grasping at my shirt, her smile against my lips, and my last thought was 'fuck it' as I let myself be pulled into the water with a splash and delighted shriek from Sansa. This was a two hundred pound shirt and a three hundred pound pair of trousers, but I have others, so I wouldn't grieve for them, especially not as I writhed on the soapy, giggling, girl beneath me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't planned on having Baelish as a POV , this was originally all going to be seen through Sansa, but then I thought nah. He's too much of a terrible dandy, and I love writing his thoughts. I think there's less sex in this chapter, solely because I got most of my kicks from writing Baelish-esque inner monologues. Next chapter will be going back to Sansa, but Baelish's POV will crop up again.


	4. Chapter 4

Cocaine is a lovely drug.

I was offered weed in my first year of college, and I'm shamed to remember the night ending with me projectile vomiting in, around, and partially on the walls of some unfortunate mans downstairs bathroom. Or some woman's. I can't remember where I was to be honest, it was quite some time ago, but I remember swearing off the stuff then and there. 

Then there are the other drugs. Heroine, crack, meth and what have you. All the ones with the nasty reputations, and honestly thats only half the reason I stayed away. It wasn't that I have a strict moral code about my own standards, as by now you may have realise I don't much have a moral code at all, since really it was more to do that I am a dreadful wimp when it comes to needles. I fainted once on a school inoculation day, and that was just a jab in the arm to ward off measles, so I couldn't imagine myself being able to inject a drug into the soft tissue of my eye socket, which is something I watched a man do once after all the veins in his arm had collapsed. 

But cocaine? Oh, cocaine is pleasant, and easy, and I rather like the penchant of cutting it up with a credit card and snorting it with a rolled up fifty pound note. It makes the debauchery much more fun , rather than, say, sitting in a dirty bathroom stall holding a zippo lighter under a spoon. It is the drug of choice of most celebrities, tycoons and the socialites. I can almost promise you that most red carpet walkers and those with bank accounts in the millions have at least tried the stuff. Why, we're at a party now and there is a tray being offered to us as if they are canapés.

Myranda Royce, our gracious host, tucks her expertly curled hair behind an ear as she bends down, sniffs, and comes back up again, patting the side of her nose as she blinks, eyes watering as it would have hit the back of her throat. 

“Whoo!” she let out, giggling as she passed the tray down to Sansa, who took it with a polite nod and a thank you, bless her.

Sansa had taken to her in the office, apparently, and had been asked over to this club, which dear Myranda had gotten us into the VIP section of. In a place as loud, and as dark, and as packed as this, we were hardly going to be noticed in the throngs. It was a popular night club, but I was sure I was most likely the only one present that worked with her father. I was aware that Nestors daughter had a very loose position in the building as of late, and I mean loose as in she barely worked at all. She didn't need too, and she definitely didn't want too, but her university degree in marketing a public relations had gone un-utilised in the two years she'd spent in Ibiza and Monaco and London throwing parties with her fathers money, so now she was given an easy job in HR, in some sort of bid to settle her down.

That and she'd gotten married to a geriatric billionaire last year and then killed him while having sex on a yacht in cannes. I'd heard he'd gone into cardiac arrest as she'd bounced up and down on top of him, as well as the version where he overdosed on his viagra, which I'm not sure is a thing that could happen, and I would perhaps have to investigate later on in my life, and there was my favourite of all the tales where she had sat on his face and suffocated him in an example of a sixty nine gone wrong. In my head I labelled it the six six six sixty nine and laughed at my own joke. Perhaps I would tell it to Myranda myself, given the chance, and looking at her now she did have thighs that looked like they could kill a man.

I of course mean this in only the most complimentary fashion.

I see Sansa's hands fiddling with some of the crystal beading of her tiny dress before she takes the tray and leans down for a try. I can still see that slight twinge of doubt in her eyes, a little scrap of morality and embedded life lessons that were no doubt at the front of her mind, what mothers, teachers and government funded campaign adds all warn us about, and I delighted in the way she inhaled despite it all.

It took her two attempts to try and sniff up the thin white line, and there was even a tad bit left, but she quickly passed the tray to me, turning away from Myranda as she scrunched and wiggled her nose, not used to the feeling. I did my line in three seconds flat and passed on the tray.

The chatter around us continues, as you have never met a more chatty crowd than one that is high on cocaine, voices all trying to top one another and hardly any of them listening, but my eyes are on Sansa. 

“How are you feeling then?” I ask her, leaning into her ear over the noise.

“How am I supposed to feel?” she frowns slightly.

“Good. It just makes you feel good,” I purr, hand itching to snake around her waist, but alas, we are in public “it doesn't hit you all at once, you just have to wait for it to catch up with you. Makes you feel like a million dollars. Like you have something to look forward too....like your the most resplendent person in the room . Which in your case, are all in fact true.”

“Resplendent?” she giggled coyly, not quite knowing the word but knowing she was being complimented in some fashion. Sometimes I forget she was dragged out of school at a tender age to be 'home schooled' under Cersei's dubious care. I doubt that women personally read much more than pill bottles and hotel bar wine lists.

“It means attractive... impressive... dazzling, sumptuous, magnificent-” I waved off synonym after synonym “-breath taking, striking, gorgeous, transcendent, stunning, majestic, and all that nonsense along the lines of wonderful.” 

It only made her giggle more, and honestly I think it may be a side effect of the drug already seeping its way into her system, but I like the sound of it all the same “You're like a walking thesaurus sometimes”

“Oh, well thank god you at least know what a thesaurus is.” I mutter, picking my wine back up off the table for a sip “and I like my words. I'm good with my words.”

“You're good at lots of things.”

She said it so sweetly, with just enough of a hint of salaciousness, so that I quite feel like ravaging her right here and now. Barbreys voice nags somewhere in the back of my conscious, about subtle manipulations and pandering, but it's not as if compliments are my one true weakness. Everyone likes compliments, and it's not far fetched to think I deserve them, honestly. I AM good at many things. The girl only speaks the truth.

“Alayne!” Cries the voice of Myranda, making my complimentary little ingenue turn her head away from me, for which I am annoyed for. I was about to say something terribly inappropriate, and I would bet anything she would have blushed so prettily.

“I'm going to miss you when you're gone! I can't believe it's already been weeks! Now it's just going to be me, Maya and Harry again, stuck in the sea of oldies! Oh, no offence Mr.Baelish...or can I call you Petyr outside of work hours?” the buxom young brunette smiled over at me. 

“Petyr is more than fine,” I grant her “And I think we'll all miss Alayne once she leaves.” I add, sharing a smile with Sansa. Myranda seems to join in with a smile of your own.

“Oh, I'm sure you will.”

Then she stood up, reaching down to take Sansa's hand.

“Come on, lets have a dance. This fucking DJ's meant to have played at Glastonbury, and all he's played is rubbish so far. Lets get him to play something half decent.”

I sit resolutely as Sansa glances back at me, and I love that she wants to see me nod my permission before she willingly goes along, despite being dragged. Of course I grant it, with a small smile, and she's off into the throngs of people, and I am left behind, because for god sake, I'm aged, and despite my sleeping with an eighteen year old, and the drugs I had just inhaled, I still had a little sense of what was now beyond me.

Still. I could watch.

I couldn't decipher what Myranda's definition of a half decent song was, as it sounded almost identical to the last hour of faddish techno music twenty-somethings listened to these days,with tracks that went on for ten minutes with terribly explicit, yet moronic, lyrics. Still, it gave them all something to jump around to, an excuse to writhe against one another. I could glimpse Sansa easily through the crowd, with the crystals on her dress catching the light, and the fact that she was taller than most in her chosen pair of heels. She'd stand out even more once I could get her red hair back. If only a few certain people would hurry up and die. Honestly, by now it was just inconsiderate of them.

About twenty minutes into her dancing, I can see Sansa is lost to me for now. That's another thing cocaine is good for. Dancing. You'll never feel quite as good dancing as you will when you're doing it high. Her body was moving without hesitation, swaying and undulating quite lewdly, especially with Myranda's hands roaming about her in a way that was entirely meant to entrance the circle of admiring young men around them. Braver ones would try and grab their hands to Sansa's hips from behind, and I could see her laugh and grind herself back on them, giggling and taunting while her skin shone with sweat, but I would watch her look back to me still, and when she saw I was watching she would pull them closer so that they almost thought they could kiss her, then push them back at the last minute, dancing back into Myranda's arms. The little tease. I almost felt sorry for the boys. Almost being the key word.

Once Myranda's entirely less interesting friends tried to strike up a conversation with me, I decided to make a polite retreat to the mens room.

One of the men I hire moves to follow ten paces behind me, and the other stay where he can keep an eye on Sansa. I wondered if they flipped a coin for who got what job.

As I make my way into the bathroom, with the usual mens bathroom etiquette of 'head down, mouth shut, gaze averted', the second my fly is down and I'm relieving myself, I hear a familiar voice.

“Don't mind me, I'm just looking at whats on offer.”

The voice isn't aimed towards me, but I glance over a couple of urinals to my left and see a young chestnut haired man being approached by a man with a suggestive growl to his foreign accent, wearing a loose paisley print shirt that showed off an olive skinned chest, unbuttoned dangerously low.

I know this man, and he is without a doubt one of the most atrocious, debased and scandalous men I have ever met.

We get along grandly.

I re-zip my pants just in time to hear the approached man swear indignantly, with the words 'fucking', 'goddamn' and most atrociously 'faggot', mixed in with his response to having his penis inspected from across the urinal divide, and I simply take a good few steps back for my own safety, and watch.

The chestnut haired man goes to punch the 'faggot' with a clumsily thrown fist, but it is dodged with hardly any effort at all, and instead the mans arm is grabbed and twisted at a horrendous angle, and if his strangled cry wasn't painful enough to hear, the crack of him being thrown into the hard stall door across the room was.

Predictably, my paid man comes bursting in to make sure I haven't been assaulted, but honestly, a little pointless, since if this man had wanted me dead I would have been dead. He relaxes when I see's I'm ok though, and retreats back out with a handful of other men who are giving the 'faggot' a wide birth as of now.

“Oberyn,” I say, making him look up from his latest assault “Rounding off a good night out, I see?”

His face breaks out into his infamously charming grin “Petyr!” he cries, and we lean in for a quick hug and clap on the back. I am not usually a hugger, but again, I am on drugs, and this is a man who can throw people across bathrooms with barely a flick of his wrist. If he wants a hug, he gets a hug.

“God, shit. What are you doing here?” he asks.

“Business up at Arryn Holdings. I'm on the board now, if you hadn't heard”

“Oh, yes, that. No, of course I heard, tragic, just tragic about what happened to Lysa, we read about it the papers, just awful.” he shook his head, and I tried to look at least a tad solemn as I nodded in remembrance for half a second.

“Thank you, yes, her death threw us all.”

Then his hands clapped onto my shoulders again, as he regarded me with bright eyes. That was the thing about Oberyn. He was one of those effortlessly charismatic people, just naturally born to make people like him. It's why he had so many friends despite his various vices and a police record that was continuously being bought off by the Saudi royal family. It paid to be a prince.

“But no, it's good to see you man.” he said, his accent thick and melodious “You're here to party? Ah, us old men, we cannot give up the life, can we?”

“I doubt for a second you even tried,” I smiled “And what is your definition of fun these days? Picking up straight men in club bathrooms?”

Oberyn laughed “If they say yes, I can fuck them, if they say no, I can fight them. Win win, my friend, win win.”

God, I missed this man.

“Look, what are you doing now?” he asks me lowly “I have my apartment here, with Ellaria, we already have some friends coming back to ours now, you should join us.”

If I were a less cautious man, and these were less cautious times, I wouldn't have hesitated to say yes.

“Maybe, but I have someone with me.” I err on the side of saying no. He is a charming man, but who knows who else he was charming too these days. I didn't want to be invited into a trap.

“Of course they are invited too! Any of yours is a friends of mine, Baelish, you know this!” he says, as we walk back out into the pumping throng of the club.

“Perhaps not tonight, though could I trouble you to keep the offer open, if you are in town for awhile?”

“Of course, of course,” he pulls out a card that no doubt has his phone number on it “I usually give these to people I want to fuck, but you can reach me on that line all the same, text or call, whenever you wish.”

oo00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

“I think our holiday is off to a good start,” Sansa announces in the car on our way home, her body pressed close to mine, her hair slightly more dishevelled than it was when we left, with a delicate strap already dangling off her shoulder.

“Couldn't agree more,” my hand traces her thigh “So, how did you like your first little taste of indulgent teenage rebellion?”

“What, the drugs?”

“Mm,”

“Well, I'd hardly say they're my first taste of teenage rebellion, as I'm already fucking my uncle, but yes. It was lovely. I felt lovely. I still feel lovely. How long is it supposed to last?”

“It'll only really last for a couple hours, maybe a little longer. It's a short high. You'll come down soon enough, though you may not be able to sleep for awhile still.”

She let out a playful little whine “But I don't want to come down! It was so nice....it really just does make you feel so happy. I haven't felt this good in so long”

She leant into me and found myself with an oddly sentimental thought. How sad it was that one of the happiest occasions in this poor girls recent memory stemmed from ingesting a harmful substance to give her an artificial high. She was so young. Too young. She shouldn't have to resort to this until her late thirties, like the rest of us damaged and cynical individuals.

Then her hand strayed up my own leg, to the waist band of my pants, already fussing herself with untucking my shirt to get her hand down there, and I pushed away the thoughts of her being damaged and cynical for now, and focused on that she was mine. As I usually did.

Symptoms of cocaine use often induce increased feelings of sexual excitement and general arousal, and considering how randy Sansa gets when she's drunk, I was pleased to see she was much the same, if not more eager, on the illicit substance.

Her hand gripped at my cock and began to stroke, lazily, and the driver had the sense to raise the partition. Don't worry, I shall give him a rather generous tip.

“Are we going to get to do things like this every night now?” she murmured into my neck “You won't just go back to work again straight away, will you?”

She pulled the length of me out of my trousers, and licked her hand gratuitously to better slide her hand up and down, something she never failed to do these days, ever the diligent learner, and I suppressed a groan just from watching her lithe fingers work.

“No, it's like I promised you. It's just me and you for awhile. All our time to ourselves.”

I kissed her and she responded so eagerly. Happily. My little treasure.

There was no point in telling her our dealings with Arryn holdings were all but secure, and it wasn't as if I was needed at work anyway. If anything lying low had been an eventual part of the plan anyway, but it was nice to think it was solely for her benefit. That she had come up with the idea, and that I went along with it just for her.

We pulled up outside the building before I was close to staining either Sansa's dress or the car upholstery, which was good for the driver, Sansa and myself, considering what I had planned for the evening.

“Something special,” I said lowly, her hand in mine as I led her inside the apartment that was our temporary home “That's what I have in mind for you tonight, sweetling.”

“Special?” she echoed, traipsing after me eagerly “What kind of special?”

I spun her around as we reached our room, depositing her on the bed where she lay down and kicked up her legs, an energy still coursing through her.

“Something we haven't tried before.” I said, removing my clothes.

She watched me with big blue eyes, and I could see her mind running “Oh?”

Perhaps she moved a little more cautiously as she pulled her slip of a dress over her head, her body arching up, breasts thrust towards me, hair tousled as she discarded it across the room, followed by her knickers. She really just was a picture sometimes. The great masters couldn't have painted anything better.

“On your knees. Face your ass to me.”

The dichotomy of my thoughts and my words isn't lost on me, but she does as she is told, cheek pressed to the bedding, while she presents herself nicely for me, legs held slightly apart so I can see her already wet pussy. Eager girl.

A stroke a hand over her indulgently, never tiring of the sight “Perfect” I mutter before I slap, lightly. Enough to make her gasp into the sheets.

“Daddy,” I heard her whisper, so I slap her again, earning another louder gasp, almost a moan.

“Daddy!” she tries again, and this time her head is turned to look back at me “Can you take off your shirt please daddy?”

The question makes me tense “Why?”

“You said it would be special...It'd make it special”

There have been only two times I have taken my shirt off to fuck her. Only two. I just prefer to keep it on and she knows it. She's never had an issue with it before.

“Please,” she begs, knowing she sounds so good when she begs “please,”

I give her two quick, hard, smacks, making her yelp, but undo my buttons all the same.

“Because it's special,” I submit, figuring I'll be behind her anyway, though I can't stop the flicker of unease run through me as she looks back and takes in the scar. I feel it every time someone look at it. Hell, I often feel it when I look at it.

I drop before her and bury my face in her pussy to distract myself from thinking about it, and what a wonderful distraction that was. One long lick down the centre of her and she mewls, already pressing back into me and I take her all in, lips sucking at her, inhaling her, tasting her, she's divine, and I am greedy, lapping at her like I do. She moans as my tongue darts out to probe at her clit, and I let it circle around, just to hear her moan louder. My hands grip behind her thighs, pulling her closer, as close as I can, reaching every crevice I can, tasting every inch of her. God, she tastes good. Smells good. Anyone who tells me their ladies cunt tasted like strawberries or some other nonsense is either lying, or missing out. A pussy should taste like a pussy, all musky, with a scent that can't be replicated, and is delicious enough as it is. The sweetest taste there is.

I kiss and suck and lick until I feel Sansa's thighs tighten around me, and her groans become desperate, and she practically rubs herself against my tongue in her need to cum, and that's when I pull back.

“You're not allowed to cum. Not yet,” I tell her as she whines, ass still pressing up towards me, and I run my hand up between her legs just to feel how wet she is, and my fingers come away glistening.

She watches me with curious, and now hazy, eyes, as I wander over to the bedside cabinet and open up the top draw. The fact that I only pulled out lube didn't seem to surprise her. I poured it out onto my hand, and cupped her pussy, watching her flinch slightly at the cold, before she melted into my hand as I rubbed along her and up between her ass. 

Then I walked back across to where my suit jacket lay discarded on the floor, and I reached into the inside pocket to pull out the little bag of white powder.

She was watching me again, now moving to sit back up as she saw “Are we going to do some more?” she asked, but I pushed her back down gently.

“Yes, but stay where you are,” I instructed, stroking her back, the blades between her shoulders. I could hear her breathe in anticipation, and she couldn't see me as I again poured out more lube, this time rubbing it mostly over my finger, before I then rolled it in the coke.

“What are we doing, daddy?” she asked, and I smiled.

“Daddy's going to fuck you in the ass,” I answered, and before anything else could be said, my cocaine covered finger slide inside her, and she let out a strangled cry of surprise and pain, and I marvelled at the tightness. I only had to push my finger in a fraction deeper and a low, gutteral moan replaced her cry of pain. I held my finger there, letting her body relax, to let the feeling wash over her as she whimpered.

The skin on the inside of your body is thinner. Your system absorbs it quicker, and it helps that it has a slight numbing affect too. I was close enough to lean over scoop up a small amount of powder, just enough of a bump, as I quickly snorted it myself. I gently moved my finger inside of Sansa, and that small movement alone earned me a yearning noise, so I eased it in and out of her, still moving slowly.

“Do you like that? Do you like your daddy's finger in your ass?” I urged.

“Yes...” she said softly, almost sedated by the drugs and my slow pace, her body still and her breathing hard.

“What about my cock?” I rasped “You want daddy to fuck you in the ass with his cock?”

Her answer didn't come as willingly. I stretched my finger and she writhed around me.

“I need an answer, sweetling. Now, do you want me to fuck your tight little ass? Do you?”

“Yes!” she cried as I pumped my finger in and out of her some more.

“Say it” I said as I stroked another handful of lube onto myself, ready to enter her “Say please. Beg for it.”

It was indulgent, I know. But I already told you how good she sounded when she begged.

“Please...please fuck me... Fuck me in the ass daddy-” I pulled out my finger and I saw her brace as she felt the tip of my cock on her rear.

I held it their until she said it once more “Daddy, please-” and then I pushed inside of her.

She cried out, I expected her too, and I would have told her to relax, but the sensation of my cock sliding into her virgin ass rendered me momantarily silent. It was slow, agonising bliss to sink myself into her, and my own moan was drawn out and carnal. I was vaguely aware that Sansa had gone quite quiet under me as I buried myself as far as I could inside her. We were still for a moment, and I reached my hand around under her to play with the lips of her pussy, to rub at her clit, and she whimpered once more.

“Hurts..” she said, her voice small and soft, and I leant down to kiss her back. A gentle act, that I hoped would make up for how hard I was going to ravage her.

“You know the safe word,” I whispered above her skin, and I saw her nod mutely.

I pulled out my cock and pushed it back in hard, and she cried out, but didn't say a thing. 

“Good girl,” I crooned, proud of her and I started to thrust again “My good, good girl.”

Her cries where perhaps more pain than pleasure as I fucked her, but I drank them in all the same, watching as I delved into her over and over, the pretty pink ring of her ass moving back and forth over my cock. The slick sounds were lewd, and I would pull myself nearly all the way out, just to plunge back in again, cum dripping down Sansa thighs, because as much as she gasped and whimpered into the sheets, she was wet and trembling.

I started to fuck her harder. Made her cry louder. I could hardly help it, she felt so good. My little ingenue. My girl, my whore, my everything. She was perfect. Even as I fucked her, and their was sweat on her back, tendrils of hair sticking to her skin, her mouth open in slur, a string of drool pooling on the sheets, she was perfect, so perfect, and tight, and mine.

I pushed so deep inside of her she screamed.

“My girl,” I found myself muttering, pace quickening “Such a good little girl, such a good little ass. You've made me so proud, girl, made your daddy so proud, such a tight little ass for your daddy.”

I could feel her ass clenching around me, her cries becoming long and drawn out as a thrust with abandon, my sweet daughter, because that's what she was, can't you see? The one I care for most, the one person besides myself I want to succeed, the one who wouldn't be anything without me, yes, yes. she was my daughter, my angel, and I was her terrible, sinful, father, and I was proud of her. Proud of her for taking my cock, for making it this far, for living this terrible life with me.

She's crying out, and I am too, and were both sweating, and I'm thrusting, hands on her hips as I slam her back on my cock over and over, the slick slick slick hitting my ears, and I'm delirious as I cum inside of her, buried as deep as I can go as I spill myself in the peak of ecstasy, my body taut, face contorted. 

I finally pull myself out of her, and she's shaking on her knees, but she doesn't move. Simply lowers her ass, arms still in front of her, clutching the sheets, still breathing into the mattress.

I let myself fall to the bed beside her, and reach out for her to come to my arms. She lifts her head and looks at me, her eyes that of a childs, as she moves to nestle into me.

This is the moment I should tell her I love her, but I won't. I simply stroke her back, and her hair, and her check, and try and tell it to her in the dead eyes that she alone seems to liven.

“You did so well,” I praise, and I've almost forgotten I am shirtless, before she leans her head to my chest, a finger trailing over the lower part of my scar by my stomach. I let her touch it lightly “So well.”

I see her smile a little at that. Small, and to herself more than me.

“Did it hurt terribly?” I ask.

She seemed to pause for a second “....it felt good as well, at the same time as it hurt.” 

“Mm, as so many things in this world do,” I mused, somewhat of a poet as I basked in the afterglow of sex, breathing in the scent of her hair.

“Did you come?”

There was another pause, before the small shake of her head.

It wasn't as if their was any point in trying to sleep. The coke would make sure we wouldn't get to bed for at least the next eight hours, most likely, so I had Sansa turn around, her back to my chest as I lowered my hand to her pussy and rubbed, kissing into her neck, intent on rewarding her for being such a good girl. My good daughter. Seeing her shake and buck against me as she came, my cock sliding between the cleft of her sore ass, my cum leaking out of her as I brought her off, was another reward of my own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I threw in Myranda and Oberyn in there, so I can have them show up later. I won't run out of ideas when I have characters like Oberyn and Myranda around.
> 
> Also, just a PSA, people should be cleaning their asshole before anal sex. I just didn't have Petyr and Sansa do it because I had a shower scene last chapter, and there was no other sexy way to throw in a butthole scrubbing. Plus, honestly, I wanted Petyr to kind of spring it on her, but yo, don't do that. Petyr's an asshole to get into an asshole like that. Don't be a Petyr. Scrub. Ya. Asshole. Fiction is fiction, shit on a dick is 2 real.
> 
> PSA over, I hope you look forward to the next chapter full of sin and your mothers disappointment.


	5. Chapter 5

I woke up the next morning with a sore head, a sore ass, a sore everything.

Rolling over in the bed I realised that I was alone, and despite the curtains being drawn, it was clearly day time. The clock told me it was four pm in the afternoon, I lay and figured I should at least get up for a few hours, or my sleep pattern would well and truly be ruined. That and I needed to pee.

Just sitting up and swinging my legs off the bed exaggerated the sore pain in my ass, and my mouth gaped a little. It wasn't much better as I, not very gracefully, made my way to the bathroom and sat myself gingerly on the toilet seat. I sat there for another ten minutes after I'd pissed, solely because getting up in hurry and going anywhere now seemed daunting.

I hoped Petyr didn't plan on going anywhere near my ass tonight. I wouldn't be able to take it.

I knew it would hurt. It had hurt enough when he first started fucking me. If you would have asked me yesterday, I probably would have guessed anal would have hurt in just the same way, but now I knew that definitely wasn't true. I cried out when he'd entered in his finger. I couldn't even scream when he'd pressed in his cock, my mouth had only opened like it wanted to make a sound, but it wouldn't. I just felt so full. I couldn't think of a better word for it, just that it filled me so completely, and the pain was sharp and tore through me, like I was being split in half. Taken over. I could see why people take it as unnatural, it feels nothing but. Where Petyr would slide into my pussy, it felt right. I still remember the first time I took him inside of me, all of him, not just his fingers that had teased in passing incidents, while Lysa was still at our backs. No, when he'd finally claimed me it had been right. My body wanted it. My body warmed to it. It had felt so right I still remember choking back sobs, as my silly little girls mind had thought that perhaps I loved him, as he'd thrust over me, shaking the bed and bruising my hips. 

Maybe I was still a silly little girl, as I realised that even as last night had all felt wrong, and the pain outweighed the pleasure, I still liked it. 

It was the coke, I reasoned, palms pressed to my eyes, making little stars dance over my eyelids as I kneaded into them. The euphoria that washed over me. Made me feel good, ... resplendent... my body was being bruised and hurt, but the drug made Petyr's words dance around me like the sweetest comfort. I wanted to be his girl. He said he was proud of me, that was the word he'd used, more than once, and even now my heart swelled just repeating it over in my head in his voice. Those words had embraced me, when my eyes were squeezed shut with tears. That was what made it good. That's why I would do it again. 

I eventually stood up and made my way to the mirror. I looked a mess, so I won't bother describing myself. Just know that I looked a state. The least I could do was wash off what was left of last nights makeup.

I wandered out to the living room to find Petyr reading his book on the sofa. Something about Ernest Hemingway. His autobiography, I think. He'd been trying to get through it for months, and I suppose when I was passed out was as good a time as any to catch up on a bit of light reading.

He was still in his pyjamas and his robe, and he looked much more comfy than he usually did in his crisp suits, that I wordlessly went to his side to sit somewhat atop him. Half on, half off, in arms that welcomed me to a sofa that was not very accommodating for two people. It was lucky we were both thin.

“A cocaine hangover is rarely pleasant, but I've had worse.” he said, as I slumped my head against his chest, obviously looking a little miserable “you're lucky I can afford the expensive stuff. Nothing that's been cut with talcum powder and sold down the street corner. That's the stuff that leaves you jittery and convinced the FBI has a van parked outside watching your every move.”

"Is that a personal experience of yours?" I almost laughed.

"Turns out it was only a pest control service, clearing out a wasp nest from the neighbours garden. Still, I didn't like the look of those men in their bee suits."

I propped my head up to look at him, amused but thoughtful. He'd already lived so much more of a life than I had. More experiences, more stories, more years to his name. I tried to picture him as a much younger man, and wondered if he'd always had the moustache, always dressed and acted this way, or had he been a stupid teenager at some point in his life? I couldn't imagine him that way, but I could think of his scar, and it made me think that he must have been at some point. Funny. I wondered if I met Petyr when he was my age, would he like me? Would I like him? What if we could have been two normal teenagers in love, who did normal things? Dates at the cinema, or fumbling in the backseat of his car while he touched me for the first time, with the song playing on the radio suddenly being dubbed 'our' song.

Of course I'd gotten all that from various movies and TV shows and daydreams I'd had. I didn't know if that's how it all really happened, as the normal teen experience had eluded me. Joffrey was the teenage fantasy gone wrong. I remembered him taking me to the cinema once and it had been some awful horror movie. Torture porn, more like. One of the various Saw movies, the third of fourth, I couldn't remember. I'd mostly kept my eyes closed, avoiding looking at the screen, as well as the erection I noticed Joffrey had gotten when a young girl was being brutalised for the viewing pleasure of the audience.

I pressed myself a little tighter against Petyr. I hadn't thought about Joffrey in awhile.

“Barbrey invited us out for dinner tonight.” he said, languidly.

I was silent for a moment, my mouth twisting a little at her mention “Where at?” 

“A nice restaurant down town. Small. Overpriced. French fusion cuisine, or some other trendy modern nonsense...shall I tell her we'll be there at eight?”

He wanted to go, I thought, sulkily. It would only be petty of me to say no.

“Fine.” I tried to sound non-plussed, but it probably didn't come out that way.

We spent another few hours pottering about after that, taking up the time before we would be due out. Petyr read some more, with me nestled besides him, drifting in and out of a nap. We should just stay like this, I thought. I didn't want to go out. Not with her. I lay there and tried to dream up the perfect outfit to make her feel terrible about herself. Maybe I wouldn't wear a bra, just to show her that my little breasts stayed up all on their own.

I ended up drawing myself a bath simply for something to do for an hour. Scrubbed myself till I was pink all over, washed my hair, shaved my legs, even put on an entirely too strongly scented facemask so that my skin was glowing by the time I rinsed it off.

The water was tepid by the time Petyr wandered in, with me sitting lazily and pruny in the bath.

“I think you're as clean as any girl can be by now.” he mused, dipping his hand in to feel the temperature “too cold for me to even join you.”

I swished the water around me with my hands as he wandered towards the shower across the room. One of those lavish, oversized ones, with the clear glass screen hiding nothing. He pulled off his robe and went to hang it on the back of the door, shooting me a look.

“Come on now, out with you.” he tutted, but I smiled back at him, sinking lower in the water.

He stood their on the spot, eyes fixing on mine as he realised I wasn't going anywere.

“Sansa.” he tried to sound serious, standing there in his pyjamas.

“Yes?” I said, voice small, chin propped up on my hands against the porcelin edge of the tub.

“I need to shower now, or we'll be late.”

“And you can't shower with me here?” 

If he got angry I would leave, but I would press on until that happened. For now he only looked un-easy.

We both knew it was about his scar, and I could see his mind working over the though of exposing himself to me that much.

“I saw it last night. I have seen it before.” I urged, gently, knowing that saying the wrong words now could set off any kind of mood. 

He laughed, but it was hollow “Honestly, I don't why you're so fascinated by it, ugly thing that it is...”

“You're not ugly, daddy.” I said, in the sweetest voice I could, to assure him, but he shook his head.

“Maybe I'm not, but it is.”

'it' was the scar. The way he bit out the word, so much venom in his voice. He hated it so much.

“Yes...ok. It is.” I said tentatively, and his eyebrows raised at the admission, but I pushed on “I remembered the first time I saw it I thought it looked like an old teddy I used to have. My little brothers dog had gotten to it, split him down the middle, and all the stuffing had come out of him. I sewed him back up myself, and he didn't look right, but I still kept him.”

He scoffed “Charming. Is being compared to an old broken toy of yours meant to make me feel better?” he said, meanly, his voice turning sharp.

“Not really. I'm just telling you what I thought.”

“Yes, well, maybe you should think less and consider getting yourself ready. It takes you long enough to choose an outfit.”

Now he was just being spiteful, busying himself by grabbing his razor and his soaps, but I still didn't move.

“It's hardly the ugliest thing about you, you know.” I said “Your mind and your soul are terrible and uglier than any mark on you, and I love them anyway...your body hardly even matters.”

He stilled, his back to me, but I could glance aside and see his face reflected in the mirror. I couldn't tell what he thought about that. I think he kept his expression deliberately blank. He was good at doing that.

I slowly brought myself out of the water, and he turned as I padded carefully across the tiles with wet feet, to bring my body against his, arms encircling him. I didn't want him upset. I didn't want him upset at me. 

“It....it's about her....every time I see it”

He didn't finish that sentence, and he didn't need to. We both knew who he was talking about, as I pressed my wet body closer to his, almost forcefully as he finally wrapped his arms around me, however reluctantly.

“Think of me.” I said, head buried in his shoulder “You have me, daddy."

I pressed a kiss to his neck, and my hands wandered to the small of his back, rising up under the loose shirt. He still flinched somewhat as I brought my hands forward and felt the outline of the scar. With one hand I traced up and down the length of it, the marred skin, while the other slipped out to undo buttons "You have me," 

“Sansa,” He warned, but with barely the anger of before. He almost sounded weak, and it made me the forceful one, unrelenting in my embrace of him, in my determination to de-clothe him. I wanted this from him. To get used to showing himself to me like this. To make it about us and no one else.

“Please, daddy. Please,” I begged, kissing more on his neck, undoing button after button, exposing more skin for me to kiss as I moved lower and lower “You have me...”

His hand moved up my side, and his fingers were tense as they dug into my skin, but his shirt was open now, and his chest was bare, and I dropped down so my lips were at his scar. Tongue darting down the split skin, no hesitation, kissing him lavishly. Let him look down at me now, naked and adoring him. Let that be the image he has when he see's this scar. Let it sear into his memory like nothing else.

I dropped so low I was on my knees at his feet, knees on the hard tiles, hands dragging down to his hips, toying with the waist band of his pants before I pulled them down too, and kissed lower. I heard him inhale hard through his nose, a hiss, as I faced his half hard form and ran my tongue flat down his length.

His hand threaded through my hair as I took the tip of him in my mouth, sucking as I looked up. Eyes guided up that jagged line of imperfect flesh, to his gaze that met mine. Let him see how I worshipped him. His cock, and his body, his scarred soul and his terrible mind.

“I have you,” he said, as I drew in as much of him as I could, my tongue sliding around his cock, so relieved to hear those words “I have you,” he said again, hushed, his eyes closing, as I almost gagged as I tried to take all of him. Thank him for those words, prove to him what this meant to me. I sucked and moaned around him, guided softly by his hand on the back of my head.

I thought about a teenage Petyr again. A boy like me, and decided that I couldn't love him, not like this. No. No, I decided I liked Petyr as he was. Exactly like this. Old, experienced, ugly and scarred, with his lifes mistakes already made. I met him as a man he'd worked years to become. The man this world had made of him, this world he would guide me through, and even if he had grey streaking through his hair and creases at the corners of his eyes, he had so much more to offer me than any boy my own age ever could. No boy would have the power he did. No boy could be the father figure I craved like he could. Tears were in my eyes by the time I felt his cum hit the back of my throat, but it was from pure affection, knowing that I was his, I was his, I was his and he was mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short little chapter. I originally had something very different planned, but decided it was too angsty too fast, and even worse than that, rather dull. Plus I'm having too much fun just writing about these two having fun. 
> 
> and by fun I mean terrible, terrible pseudo-incestuous sex with barely concealed emotional damage shining through.
> 
> So less angst and dullness. More of that.
> 
> Also, just something I loved hearing in the comments from last chapter, a couple of messages along the general lines of 'I'm not usually into anal, BUT-" which is GREAT to hear. I love to see people enjoying a kink they don't usually enjoy. It's an ego boost, as well as a good sign considering I'm going to be writing some even more risqué stuff later. The more I can ease you guys into the tepid waters of kink before I turn up the heat, the better. You won't even bat an eye by the time I get to the orgies.


	6. Chapter 6

The restaurant was on the top floor of the Marriott hotel, their two michelin star addition to their five star accommodations. 

I was chilly in the night air as we made our way in, but I couldn't sacrifice my chance to wear a nice, short dress. Tight at my waist, the material swishing down over my hips. My legs looked ridiculously long when paired with my heels, but I didn't care if I towered over everyone. I always used to feel too long and gangly for heels, but I suppose I would if Cersei was constantly by my side telling me so. When she first lent me a pair of stilettos from her vast collection of designer shoes, and I'd tried pacing around the living room in them, she'd laughed and said I looked like a baby giraffe trying to take it's first steps. She hadn't told me to put them back, but I was hardly inspired to wear them again. Especially since Joffrey seemed to hate that I was taller than him. He never said it out loud, but I could tell. It mingled in with a lot of reasons he could find to dislike me.

Petyr never seemed to care about my height. I'd found it odd that he never even mentioned it, until someone made an offhand remark, which he'd only laughed at. He'd even bought me my first proper pair of heels, and I'd tried them on with trepidation, shyly asking if he minded that I'd just added inches to the inches I already had over him. I could almost rest my chin on the top of his head, if I reached.

He told me 'God forbid the day I'm embarrassed to be besides the most stunning girl in the room, with legs from here to there' with his usual lilt.

And that was that. I'm sure it was just a line, the way he flirted and composed his replies almost as an instinct, but I didn't slump as I walked anymore. He didn't seem to care if he was short, so neither did I, and he'd told me that any man who had an issue with looking up at a lady, instead of down, must be a terribly fragile sort of man indeed. 

Barbrey was waiting in the lobby as we walked in, on her phone, which she graciously dropped in her bag as she rose to greet us.

“Barbrey, don't you look a vision.” Petyr gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek, which she returned, and went to greet me in the same way. We both kissed delicately, so as not to ruin either of our lipsticks. 

She looked good. I wouldn't go as far to say 'a vision', but her pants were tailored, and her pussy bow blouse was made of a lovely chiffon. I couldn't tell the designer just by looking, and I wouldn't dare ask. I might have, if it had been anyone else.

“As do you Petyr,” Barbrey replied, glancing over to me “and what a pretty dress you have on.”

“Thank you.” I said, curtly, not trusting that the compliment was entirely well meant.

“Hows your little break from work going so far, then?” Barbrey spoke to Petyr, not me.

“Wonderful. Sleeping in past six thirty, wine in the middle of the day-”

“Miss Royce was overheard in the office, talking about meeting up with you and Alayne in a club down town, bragging about the 'top notch shit' you bought for them.”

He met her slightly raised eyebrows with a pleasant smile “Like I said. A wonderful time.” 

To my surprise, she laughed. It was short, and it was sharp, more of a bark than anything, but it was a laugh “Petyr, please don't tell me you brought Nestor Royce's daughter back to your apartment? You already have one young girl to sate you, surely you don't need another.”

The image of Petyr, myself and Myranda all in a bed together was forced into my head, and I looked down to the carpet, embarrassed.

“And why on earth would you jump to a conclusion like that?” Petyr only played at being offended.

“Because it saves time, considering it's you. Assume the worst, and backtrack from there.”

“You wound me.”

“Oh, please, you love it. You list off sins like you would accomplishments.”

Petyr gave a shrug of his hand “More often than not I consider them both one and the same.”

“So just to iterate, you didn't fuck the Royce girl?” 

“Of course not, no. I shouldn't be greedy. Though you shouldn't put ideas in my head either.” 

“Especially considering I've heard she's quite high spirited between the sheets.”

“High spirited? Is that what they're calling it these days?” Petyr mused “She didn't exactly come across as a wallflower, I can tell you that much.”

“Well. It's always good to consider ones options. How would you feel about that, Sansa?” I was forced to look up at the question. She said it casually, but her eyes had a glint to them “You, this old scoundrel, and your little friend? All three of you fucking together? Do you think that'd be fun?”

I blinked, trying not to look as floored as I felt at the bluntness of her words. Where on earth had that come from? I had been listening but I hadn't expected to have to join in. I'd honestly expected this as soon as all three of us were in a room. Them talking, me being the opposite of Myranda, becoming the perfect example of a wallflower. I'd pretty much perfected the art with the Lannister's. But they were both looking at me. I must say something.

“She killed the last person she slept with, didn't she?”

They both laughed at that. Real laughter, and a smile crept on my own face. It wasn't often I made people laugh.

“Come,” Barbrey gestured across the lobby “you're not late, but you're not early either, and I want the chance to give you a present before we arrive.”

It took me a moment to realise she was talking to me as we made our way across the marble floor, past concierges, patrons and luggage trolleys, to the elevators.

“A present?”

“Yes,” Petyr pressed the button by the wall “I have noticed a little...let's call it 'tension' between you two. Do you think that's fair to say?”

I eyed him. He knew I didn't like her. Those were the exact words that had left my mouth, straight to his ear. I didn't doubt that Barbrey would have said something similar to him about me.

“Depends what you mean by tension.” 

“It's fairly obvious how you feel about me, Sansa”

My eyes snapped to Barbrey “I barely feel anything about you. I hardly know you.”

“And theres that tension,” Petyr muttered, but neither of us were looking at him anymore.

“Look I'm going to be around for awhile, as things are only just starting to happen for us. You might not see it now, but I'm useful to you. So you should get used to me. Maybe show me a shred of respect. Of trust. Get rid of this...attitude... of yours. It'll make it all so much easier.”

The nerve of her.

“I don't have an attitude. If anything, you have an attitude, a much worse one than me!” I turned to Petyr “You heard what she was like the first time she ever even met me-”

“Don't simper to him, you're talking to me.” she cut across, and she sounded like one of my old school mistress's, chiding me so.

“You're being unfair!”

“And you're being a brat.” 

Pure frustration. She was so infuriatingly calm, and now I was upset, and I looked like the unreasonable one. 

“Sansa,” Petyr stepped in, finally, and I wanted him to tell her off for being so rude to me. I'd barely done anything. I had come here without complaint even, he should tell her that!

“Consider this night as us starting anew. Forget how it was before. You can establish a new dynamic.”

I breathed in, wanting to run out and go home. Storm off in these stupidly high heels. Have Petyr leave Barbrey there in the lobby and have him chase after me, where he'd catch me and apologise and say we wouldn't have to see her again if I didn't want to.

Maybe I was being a brat.

“So what is this 'present' you've gotten me?” I huffed, making sure she knew whatever it was, I wouldn't be impressed “What could you get me that's going to make us friends all of a sudden?”

There was the ding of a bell, and the sound of the elevator doors finally opening before us, as Barbreys hand moved to the small of my back “I didn't say we'd be friends, Sansa.”

I didn't yelp as I was pushed roughly by her hand into the mirrored cubicle of the elevator, with Petyr following quickly behind, slamming his hand on the inside panel to shut the doors behind us, so no one could follow. I was backed up roughly against the wall, before I could barely think, and a fear rose in me, but how scared could I truly be, with Petyr standing there? Though he didn't look surprised in the least.

“What the hell are you-”

“I want you to respect me,” Her voice cut sharply over the soft elevator music as we rocked into motion “More importantly, I wan't you to know your place.”

She stood over me and I seethed “You don't respect me.”

“No...not really,” she admitted “But I might. In time. Good behaviour earns you respect.”

I watched as Barbrey pulled something from her bag. Black, leather. Something with straps.

“What is that?”

“Your present. What else” she said, calmly.

I slid myself across to Petyr “I don't want it, I don't want anything you give me!” but as soon as I pressed myself against him, for some measure of protection, his arm had gripped around me too tightly, and Barbrey only stepped closer.

Betrayed, I tried to twist my neck to look at him, but he only held me more firmly. Held me facing her.

“I'll kick if you come any closer!”

“And I'll slap you back twice as hard if you do, and I'll enjoy it.” Barbrey dropped down to her knees before me, and I almost did it, her threats be damned, I could have kneed her in the face right now. But Petyr had his head in the crook of my neck, gentle shushing noises in my ear, even as his grip was iron around me.

“Just do what she says, and she'll be good to you. Just be a good girl, like you are for me.”

“No!” I protested weakly, as her hands pulled the hem of my dress up, so my thighs were exposed, and I could now see were the black leather straps were meant to go around. I didn't want to be a good girl for her, why would he say that, I wanted her gone, I should have run from the lobby when I could have.

I realised I was perhaps panicking, and Petyr pressed me to him, an attempt to settle me down as Barbrey wrapped whatever here present actually was around me “You know the word,” he crooned into my neck “You know it, you can say it anytime.”

I tried to breath as the leather was tightened. A game. That's what he was telling me this was, it was just a game. 

“Daddy, please,” I dry sobbed. I didn't want to play, not with her.

“She calls you daddy? God. Of course she does.” Barbrey tutted “Now stop squirming and let me put this on you. It won't hurt you, and if you don't act quick, the doors are going to open, and who knows who's going to see you like this?”

I settled enough for her to finish what she was doing, glancing down between my legs to look. Two black straps were pulled tight around my thighs, with a little silver bar attached between them. It was thin, and perhaps only a few inches long, but as she stood up to admire me, I found I couldn't close my legs properly. I supposed that was the idea. There was the ding of the elevator arriving at the top floor, and she swiped a finger softly over the cotton of my knickers, right between my lips. I recoiled slightly, and felt that behind me Petyr was already half-hard.

The doors opened and my skirt was dropped. Barbrey stepped away from me, Petyr let me go, adjusting his suit jacket.

They walked out as if nothing had happened. I tried too.

“I can't walk in this,” I whispered, mortified. There were people milling about, walking past us, chatting, with the restaurant up ahead. This was perfect for them. I could hardly cause a scene.

“Of course you can, you've barely tried,” Barbrey watched my hips “Come on. Come to me.” She beckoned me towards her, and I shuffled my steps, burning with embarresment.

I could move with this...this thing on, whatever it was called, but my steps were short, my legs unnaturally apart. Those small few inches made a difference, or at least it felt as if they did.

“Swing your hips more. Move with your body, not just your knees.” Petyr instructed.

Another few un-sure steps forward saw me try it, and I could definitely take longer strides, as long I swayed my hips out to the side as I did so.

“There. Better.” he encouraged, but I felt stupid. I wasn't walking normally, my thin frame having to move almost lewdly just to make my walk resemble anything normal. Oh, but it didn't feel normal. With each step I felt someone looking. A mans gaze lingered on me a second too long and I had to turn away. He could tell, he could, I knew it, but Barbrey didn't slow down her pace at all.

“Keep up.” she said, her back to me, as my strides tried to match hers. I smoothed my hands down over the back of my skirt, begging that it covered me enough, that no one could see. I was sure my face was bright red just knowing it was there.

“Make sure you don't bend down in front of anyone, sweetling.”

I glared daggers at Petyr, my lips set in a pout. I was upset with him and I was going to let him know it. If anything that made his smile grow.

“We're booked under the name 'Baudelaire'. Table for three, please.” Barbrey gave the fake name to the Maitre D' and we were shown to our table.

I hoped that it was by the window. Please, maybe even a booth. Something private. Why did we have to play at this now. Why could they not have told me?

But of course we were led to the middle of the busy floor, to one of the last empty tables that had the 'reserved' placard upon it.

“Everyones looking,” I whined under my breath to Petyr, tugging at his jacket. Every step I took, I felt someones eyes on me. On the exaggerated way my hips and ass had to move.

“Of course they are, when your walking like such a slut.” was all he muttered back, biting the word slut at me, his smile never leaving his face.

I was almost desperate for the relief of being able to sit down, that I may have exhaled too heavily as a young waiter pulled out my chair for me. Sitting myself wasn't as awkward, not in the quick motion of planting my ass down anyway, but then there was the realisation of how unnatural it felt to have my legs so open and separated against the pad of the chair. I'd always been raised to cross my legs. Like a lady. The polite way. Now I was spread like a whore. 

The same waiter went to unfurl my napkin and drape it across my lap, and before I could stutter a polite decline and do it myself, he had looked down and seen my splayed thighs. Of course he didn't say anything, why would he? But I saw him blink and pause and swallow hard. My fingers tried to pull the hem of my dress down even a tad further, but I'm afraid that only caught his eye some more. He pulled up his gaze and draped the napkin across me, and I wondered if he'd seen me walk. I wondered if there were thoughts in his head about what kind of girl I was. Petyr's voice bit at me again, slut, slut, slut, yes, a girl who liked to be fucked.

Another waiter was busy handing out menus and relaying the specials to Barbrey and Petyr, but as mine left, despite my shame and embarrassment, I had to catch his eye again. This plain, dull boy, in his plain, dull job. I'm sure I was nothing he was expecting tonight, prettier than most girls he probably came across, prettier than any girl he'd probably ever have. Here with my legs spread in front of him. I looked across as he was leaving and saw that he was still watching me. A thrill coursed through me. My face was warm with a blush and my heart was beating a touch faster, and I wanted him to think me a slut. To picture what lay between my legs. I imagined him coming over again, to pour our water for us, and I would raise my dress just enough to show him the black straps against my white skin. He could be in on the secret. Perhaps I'd raise it higher, toy with him, until he saw the outline of my pussy under thin lace. I bet he'd like seeing that. Some kind of fantasy come to life.

I clenched my pussy, almost involuntarily, and almost gasped at how terribly wonderful it felt. Even with the napkin, my lower half practically hidden under table, I still felt so exposed with my legs forced apart like this. I did it again, and again, and there was that shame and that thrill intermixing, so I didn't know which one I felt more.

I glanced across and Petyr and he was watching me like he knew. A little flash of need in his own eyes. I wanted to be mad at him for planning this all behind my back, but sitting here now, my arousal growing, I found my anger melting away. He knew what I wanted, ever since he'd pulled me onto his lap in his office and whispered terrible ideas into my head, to all the times he let me stroke his cock in the back seat of a chauffeured car. He knew I liked to glimpse into the rear view mirror just to check if the drivers eyes met mine as my hand would work him, panting under my breath, knowing he could hear me in heat.

A waiter came to take our orders, trying not to look too delighted when Petyr and Barbrey selected one of the more expensive vintages on the wine list. They were calm and composed, while I only played at being so. 

“So who's idea was it?” Was the first thing I asked, trying to sound as indignant as I could.

They shared a terrible, indulgent, look with one another.

“Mine,” Barbrey answered first “Though Petyr was the one who urged me to think of something to help us...” she paused for a second to conjure a word “connect.”

And such a clinical word she chose.

“And how is this meant to make us 'connect'?” I asked, a mimic of the same question I had asked before. How was this meant to make us friends, how will this make us connect, how will this do anything for either of us?

“I couldn't think of anything else to connect with you over. Neither could Petyr. So we chose sex.”

'We' was the word she used. 'We' chose sex.

I stared across at the 'we'. These worldly, older two on one side, and me sitting across the table with my legs spread before them. Both with their good looks slightly withered with age, age that gave them a wisdom that they shared, and that I did not have in turn. We, we, we, they had a history. An understanding. Something shared. Barbrey was womanly in her figure and her well kept hair and taste, but her aura was nonetheless that of a mans. Power, was what it was. She exuded it, made her words and gaze unforgiving. Then there was Petyr, a man as dominant as I could ever picture one being, but he dressed flamboyantly. His figure was lithe and his movements almost feminine in the way he crossed his legs, held his cigarettes in thin fingers, smiled in that cat like way he did. They were two parts man and two parts woman, separated between them in a perfectly balanced parallel.

And what was I to them?

I realised I must become something. I could not sit here on the outside of whatever this was I could see they had. I was stupid to think I could ignore her and she would go away, since Petyr wanted her here. If I ignored her, he would let me, I'm sure of it. I could un-clasp the straps she'd bound around me and walk out right now and wait for him at home, and I could get away with it, but he would stay here with her. She would say I was a child and I wasn't ready, and perhaps he would agree and then I would be forgotten. A petty child they would leave to her tantrum, with better things to do between them. 

Maybe that was her plan, truly. To scare me off. To come on so strong with all her fierceness and her straps and her school mistress's tone. Leave me scampering away, too daunted, too apprehensive.

I was daunted, I was apprehensive, and I still didn't think I would ever connect with her, in fact, I would do my best not too. But I could best her. I could prove something to her, and to Petyr.

I writhed ever slightly on my seat, just to feel the wetness that had begun to seep between my legs, the effects of my restraints.

“Ok, then.” I said, rather clinically, daring to meet Barbreys gaze.

Petyr smiled at me warmly, as if he was proud, and I warmed to that. Barbrey's reaction seemed pleased as well, but more with herself than anything. 

“You're going to call me 'Miss' whenever we play these sort of games from now on, understood?”

I laughed, I couldn't help myself. My private school memories not having been far off the mark. A funny coincidence of thought. 

Then I gasped as I felt something sharp between my legs, pressing into the pad of my pussy.

“Is that funny?” she said, low enough so that this was all still kept between us “It wasn't meant to be.”

The point of her patent leather heel started to undulate slowly against me, bunching at the fabric of my knickers, clinking above the metal of the bar that held me open. My mouth had dropped, but I daren't make a sound, save for a small pant I couldn't help but let out as she rubbed in just the right spot.

“I...no,” I gasped out my answer, but it must not have been good enough, and I cried out as the pointed heel pressed between my lips, hard.

“No, what?” she said, her voice unfazed, her expression unchanged.

“No, miss!” I whispered, face burning, pleaded with my eyes for her to relent, but her foot only went back to rubbing lazy circles, toying with me.

This continued on throughout the meal, as our dishes arrived, as we ate, and they chat. I was to sit there, being played with as if I was an afterthought, as Barbrey and Petyr discussed business, a man Petyr had met at the club the other night, how fine the slow cooked tenderloin was. All while I could only writhe, her foot never leaving me. Sometimes she was still, the pressure only put upon me as if I should not forget she was there, and at other times she would keep up the slow, agonising movements that had me whining in my seat. 

I kept glancing at Petyr, and his gaze was what kept me going. Every time my breath came out slightly more laboured than it should, his eyes would flick to me, to watch my face in a moment of weak arousal. I bit my lip, solely for effect, the smallest of groans escaping me.

By the time the meal ended, had dragged on, more like, I was frustrated and itching to be touched properly. Barbrey had only been languid, barely touching me with a purpose, but I knew it was only meant to be a tease. Get me ready and eager and ultimately frustrated. I wanted to get to the backseat of a car, or hell, even the elevator. Let them do what they liked to me, I'd welcome it at this point.

“Right, I think I shall use the ladies room, and then we'll head off, yes?” Barbrey put to the both of us, and finally her foot left me as she stood up.

“Yes, sounds good.” Petyr nodded “I'll pick up the cheque.”

“Sansa, do you need to go as well?” she asked me like a mother would a small child.

I wanted to say no, but having her say that, I realised I did rather need to go.

“Yes, alright.” I said, begrudgingly, trying to stand myself up with as much grace as I could.

As we headed towards the back of the restaurant, where I had to re-adjust myself quickly to my new walk, I could feel the cool air passing between my opened legs, highlighting the dampness of my knickers.

The ladies bathroom, devoid of any of the low playing piano music and general chatter of the restaurant floor, was empty and cold with its stark white marble floors. I glanced around to make sure we were the only ones in here before I said “So are you going to take this off now?”

Barbrey looked at me as if I had some gall to even ask.

“No, you're not to take it off until I say you can take it off.”

“And when is that going to be? I need to go.” I gestured towards the cubicles.

“I'm not stopping you.”

I fidgeted a little, deciding if I really did need to go after all, but of course, thinking that only made me need too more. Plus, if I opted out, Barbrey would probably stall our entire way back home until I was desperate, just to prove a point.

I caved, and figured it shouldn't be too hard to piss around the harness around my legs. Pushing open the stall door, I of course went to close it behind me, but Barbrey was there, hand pressing in and keeping it firmly open, blocking me in.

I took a surprised step away, eyes wide, a nervous laugh escaping me.

“What are you going to watch me go?” I mocked, glad that my voice didn't shake.

“Yes.”

There wasn't a trace of humour in her voice, and my smile fell.

“What? Why?”

“So you don't fiddle with it. Try and take it off yourself. Break it.” she nodded between my legs “Those things are expensive you know. Real Italian leather, its why it's so soft.”

“You're mad, what if someone-”

“They won't if you're quick about it.” she leant against the stall door “come on then.”

“I honestly don't-”

“I told you to be quick about it,” she snapped suddenly, making me flinch “Have you forgotten already? Do you think the game just stops as soon as Petyr's not watching? Pull down your knickers, sit down, piss, and stop wasting my time.”

My heart rate was up and I listened for the click of the door opening, fearing anyone walking in on this, but there was no arguing around her. That was one thing Barbrey exuded very clearly about herself, so I may as well just do it.

“How am I supposed to pull down my knickers with this thing in the way?” I said, and judging by the way Barbrey paused, her eyes flicking down to my hips, she hadn't seemed to have thought of that.

“Good point,” she admitted, and it was a brief moment for me as something to lord over her, but that was short lived, as it only took her seconds to flip up my skirt, reach to grip at the thin lace of my knickers, and with one quick rip, she'd torn one side. I only had time to make a little noise of shock and indignance, before she'd gone and ripped the other side, so she could pull them off all together.

“They were expensive!” I cried, the first of many grievances running through my mind at this sudden act.

“And I'm sure you'll enjoy going out to buy new ones with Petyr's credit card,”

I shot her a hateful look, as she held my ruined underwear in her hand, running her thumb lightly over the very obvious wet patch of the fabric.

“Sit,” she ordered, and by the look she gave me, I knew what I had to say.

“Yes, miss...”

But with her looking at me, and my fear of intrusion, I found it rather hard to go at all. So we sat there in a terrible silence as I willed myself to piss, thinking of how I would now have to brave the restaurant floor with nothing to cover me but my flimsy skirt, thinking of anything more this woman could do to me.

“Stage fright?”

“Are you a lesbian?” I cut over her jab with one of my own, glaring at her.

She crossed her arms “What do you think?”

Obviously I knew she'd fucked Petyr, but I still stared at her, deciding to wait for an answer from her own mouth.

“I have been with men and I have been with women. As for my personal preference, well, In general I prefer those who tend to know what they're doing.”

I thanked god when I finally started to piss, for all my effort, relief flooding through me. The bar, thankfully, was far enough out of the way.

“I'm not gay.” I felt the need to say, as I wiped and pulled myself up, dropping my skirt.

“Well, isn't that good to know,” Barbrey almost lilted in the way that Petyr did, as she let me move past her to wash my hands “but when someones licking your pussy, darling, someones licking your pussy,” and at that she came right up besides me, hands snaking up my arms, so I looked up to see us both reflected in the mirror “and I can tell you that I definitely know what I'm doing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa "No homo" Stark has no idea.
> 
> I live for short Petyr, would die for short Petyr. Fics where it's described that Petyr 'lifts Sansa's chin to have her look up at him' make me pull a face, because his short ass would have to haul over a box to stand on for that. 
> 
> I got the fake name Barbrey gave the restaurant from Lemony Sniket's A Series of Unfortunate Events. Because I love those books, and it's a great name.
> 
> And Sansa's 'present' is called a spreader bar, if you were interested in googling such a thing, hmhmm.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in awhile. Uni has my clasped in it's unforgiving jaws of crushing workloads and deadlines. I still have two more assignment, exams, and a 4 week extended prac to do, which will see me working 8-5 every day, so I'm still busy, but hopefully more writing will get done! Then holidays! SO LOTS OF WRITING!

I left the bathroom without Barbrey, as she then went to a cubicle herself.

I had half a mind to barge in on her, see how she liked it, but realised I was a step too late as she locked the door quickly behind her, and then I had the feeling that it probably wouldn't phase her in the least anyway.

I walked out to find Petyr waiting in the lobby outside the restaurant besides the elevators, and I had only just opened my mouth to re-count the bathroom stall incident, in all it's bemusing details, along with the fact that she had ruined one of my favourite pair of knickers, but I had scarcely got his name out before he had me by the hand.

“Petyr, I-oh!”

I was pulled into an alcove, a slightly hidden from view but still entirely too public spot, where I hadn't time to get my wits together before I felt his hand up my leg, cupping my ass, grabbing roughly at the flesh. 

He hadn't said a word, he didn't need too, not when he looked at me like that. I could feel his nails dig into me, dragging over soft skin with need that had been pent up for hours, my own frustrations reaching me from before as he did so. I had been teased all night too, being tempted but denied, worked up without release.

I kissed him first, but he kissed me back all the more fiercely, and I heard him moan against my mouth as his fingers dipped below my ass, where he no doubt discovered how Barbrey had done away with my underwear.

“Do you know how hard it was to keep still in my seat all night?” he rasped against my ear, and I smiled, feeling his cock rub against my thigh.

“Really? You seemed so calm. So composed,” I said the word with very little composure of my own, gasping as his fingers started sliding down between my legs with ease due to how wet I realised I was.

“A good act, since composed was the last thing I was, watching you like that. God, you should see your face when you're needy. All flushed, lips parted, writhing there on you're seat...torture, that's what it was. You look so sweet, but your torturous.”

The harness kept my legs so open I could do nothing but shudder as he rubbed and played with me, and every time his fingertips would graze over my slit I would wriggle against him, tell him without words that I needed him to fuck me with those fingers. I was aware that anyone could walk by at anytime, I could even hear the commotion of the restaurant, the chatter of not far off voices, but that was reason talking. Reason is so easily drowned out by lust, a loud, all encompassing roaring in my ears.

“You talk as if it wasn't torture for me too, made to sit with my legs spread the whole night. You and Barbrey are the cruel ones here, teasing me,” 

“Oh, don't worry, we plan to fuck you thoroughly soon enough.”

'We'.

“You didn't tell me Barbrey was a lesbian.” I said, as Petyr never slowed down his ravishing.

“She's not.” he mumbled over my skin.

“Well, bi then, whatever, you didn't tell me.”

“Does it matter?”

“She watched me in the bathroom, made me go in front of her....and took my underwear after she ripped them off without asking!” I managed to still be indignant, even as I panted slightly, as Petyr's fingers were vigorous on my pussy.

“Well, you're very watchable sweetling, you can't fault her for that.” he was breathing heavily too as he kissed his way across my neck and collarbone.

“And she stroked my arms, and told me she knew what she was doing, all suggestive.”

He seemed to sigh a little as my incessant talking, and I know I'd talked myself into this, convinced I could do this with Barbrey, but I was still so worried, and there was a part of me that wanted him to know that, even if I didn't want to say it out right. Or maybe he knew I was nervous and just didn't care.

“Sweetling, you have to trust me. I wouldn't let her near you if I didn't think you'd like it.”

“But I'm not-”

“You told me about all those times you practised kissing with you're little school friend.”

I gaped “That doesn't count! Me and Margaery were practising for boys. I should never have told you that!”

“Oh, you definitely should have, and I'm glad you did. The image of two randy little private school girls, under the covers in a quiet dorm room, giggling and kissing each other, what man hasn't fantasised?”

I smiled despite myself “It was only kissing though...” and then over his shoulder, from our secret spot, I spied a man walk past glance our way. 

It's hard to describe the fear, embarrassment and excitement that shot through me as I locked eyes with this complete stranger. It is a feeling all its own, and it is hard to imagine how it all mixed together to feel so good, but oh god, it made me laugh, it made me dizzy, made me clench to see his eyes widen at the sight of my dress over my thighs, a mans hand between my legs, as he comprehended the sight he was seeing. For a couple of second he was transfixed, but shame made him look away first. Where was my shame, I thought in passing? Gone. This man with his hands roaming across my ass, my thighs, my pussy, had taken it from me, and this perfect stranger had taken away the sight of me, burned into his mind was the image of a shameless girl being half fucked in broad sight.

He was there and then he was gone, but that moment and that thrill had me rubbing up against Petyr with the half mad notion that he should just fuck me here, let them all see, let the whole restaurant drink in the sight of pure debauchery, oh how I wish that couldn't just be a fantasy. If one mans eyes excited me this way, I could hardly imagine the effect of an actual audience. Just thinking of it had the dizzying feeling rise up in me, and I was pawing at Petyr's front as he clawed at my behind.

“For gods sake Petyr, cameras,” Barbrey tutted.

“Not pointed towards a bloody corner near a pot plant,” he muttered, disentangling himself from me as we turned to Barbrey, having seemingly just appeared.

“And I suppose the people wandering past aren't a concern either?”

Petyr combed a hand over his facial hair and licked his lips, which were tinged a reddish colour, passed over from my lipstick “Fair enough point. We'll get a room then.” he said.

“Here? You can't wait till we get home?”

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Top floor. High ceilings, lush red curtains, and only one king size bed. A posh suite in a posh hotel. If it were any other instance I would have run to the bed and thrown myself on it, tested out the mattress, drowned myself in the pillows, before running to look in the bathroom, the drawers, all the novelties of being in a hotel room. Instead I just watched as Barbrey made her way to the side of the room.

“I asked for a champagne waiting for us. Pity they only gave us Chandon. I should have specifically asked for a good one.” she un-corked it without spilling a drop, and poured us all a glass. I rather thought she should hand me the bottle.

I ignored the knot in my stomach, focused on the heat between my legs, and downed the champagne quite quickly. Petyr's hand was on the small of my back, small circles being drawn with his fingers, but I found myself at a loss. What was I supposed to do? How does this start, who does what? I sat there with a kind of stage fright. God, I was being silly. I was hardly a virgin anymore, Petyr had seen to that. Joffrey had had his share of stealing my innocence too. I needed to will these nerves away, or at least drown them with alcohol. I ended up having another champagne, and they didn't stop me.

“First things first,” Barbrey said, as casually as anything, as if this was any other night for her “Whats your word?”

I looked at her blankly for a second “My word?”

“Lemon cakes,” Petyr answered for me quick enough, as he headed towards the bed.

“Oh, yes,” I nodded, blushing. Safe words, of course I knew about those, Petyr had told me. Had let me choose. I had never used it though. Not yet anyway.

“And what are you to call me?”

“Miss,” I didn't hesitate to answer, knowing what she wanted to hear.

“Good...And are you going to be a behave for me and do everything I say?”

“Maybe.” I said, a touch of wilful bravado coming over me.

Barbrey stepped around me, slowly. Purposefully. Her eyes wandered over me, to admire me, and intimidate me at the same time. 

“Maybe? I don't like 'maybe'. Does Petyr let you get away with talking like that? Do you behave for him, do everything he says?”

Petyr was sat against the headboard. He gave me a little smile, like a parent encouraging his child from the sidelines. It was a soft and proud look that really was at odds with the promise of sex that hung in the air.

“And are you a good girl? Do you do everything he says?”

My heart rose in my chest a little. I nodded “Yes”

She tucked her fingers under my chin, grabbing me enough to keep my face held towards hers “Really? Because by the way you talk back to me, I think he's been a little slack. He's too soft, too kind.”

The idea of Petyr Baelish being described as soft and kind made me almost laugh, and perhaps a small smile slid onto my face. That's when Barbrey's hand snaked behind my neck to grip hard in my hair.

“He spoils you, you know. Indulges you, the little princess type that you are, I've met so many girls just like you.” she said calmly, as I hissed at the surprise jolt of pain. Petyr was silent, watching “Men are easy for you, I know, but Petyr's not in charge tonight, I am, and you must do everything I say, since I don't tolerate bad behaviour. Understood?”

Her grip in my hair was still tight, and even as pain coursed through my scalp and the straps were growing uncomfortable on my legs, I almost felt a relief come over me. You must do everything I say, do everything I say, do everything I say, such a simple command, and one I could obey. I held no power here, could make no decisions, that's what Barbrey was saying as she stared me down, cold and in control.

“Understood,” I said, my defiance fading, slipping too easily into the role of a girl with no power of her own. The role I'd seemed to live my whole life. Perhaps that's why its familiarity was a comfort. Perhaps it's just who I was.

“Good. Now, bend over.” She instructed, guiding me before the bed, had me face my ass towards Petyr as I bent at the waist, my long hair hanging down to the floor. I kept my legs as straight as I could, knowing he was watching, the thought that this was for him making me eager to please.

She had me pose like this for a moment, blood quickly rushing to my head, before I felt the pad of her fingers press through the fabric of my dress, rubbing at the lips of my pussy. I couldn't help but shudder.

“You like that, don't you?” she mused, and I let out a small yes “Petyr likes it too, you should see how hard he's gotten, and you're not even bare yet, already running his hands over himself...even though I never gave him permission”

Her tone had a bite too it, not directed at me. Even though my eyes were still down to the floor, I could hear a little scoff from Petyr. She didn't say anything more though, so I supposed he'd done as he was told. It made me smile, to think of him as anything but in charge, even as I was beginning to feel light headed, and my breathing grew more laboured. It was getting harder and harder to hold the pose as she toyed with me and there was an uncomfortable thrum in my head beginning to form.

I lifted myself up for a moment of relief, but my head was quickly pushed back down again and I yelped, almost toppling forward due to the way the brace still held my legs open.

“Were you told to get up?” I was scolded.

“But it's hurting my-Ow!”

There was a sharp blow to the back of my legs, so that I fell down to my knees, head held down by my hair so that my forehead touched the carpet.

“I thought you said you understood, that you were to do everything I say?” she didn't need to raise her voice, as calm as it was, she simply needed to tug at my hair and the apology tumbled from my mouth.

“Yes, yes, I'm sorry, I will” The words were muffled as I spoke down into the carpet.

She eased her grip slightly “Good. Now stay down on your knees, push your ass up in the air. Let us see you. Let us see what we're going to fuck”

This position was easier, and I did as I was told. Her hand pressed gently down on my back to make me arch nicely for her. The brace made me feel so open, I could not even press my knees together for a trace of modesty, and it was had not to yearn to be touched again.

“I'm starting to see why you bragged about her now, she really does have a pretty pussy. Pink against porcelain...” Barbrey dragged a nail along the pale skin of my thigh “Like a dolls pussy. A pretty little doll for us to play with”

I felt a pang of pride and need race through me, and if I could have I would have splayed my legs apart even further, only sated by arching up even more.

“I told you sweet words swayed her more.” Came Petyr's voice and made me ache ..

“Mmm, she likes being told she's pretty, what pretty girl doesn't. Can't say I'm in abundance of sweet words though, she'll have to earn the next ones out of my mouth.” her fingers snapped “Up, stand up. Dress to the floor.”

I rose and slipped the straps over my shoulders, shimmying the fabric down my body to pool at my feet, which now left me completely bare, except for the strap. I hesitated and looked towards Barbrey. However much I wanted too, I wasn't going to turn around and face Petyr until she told me too. I wanted more sweet words. I would earn my pleasure.

She came over, a hint of a smile now on her face, as she took me gently by the shoulders and spun me around. The way he was looking at me, his eyes demonic and unnaturally brilliant in that way that they were as he ran a palm over the length of his erection, tenting his trousers, looking so hard it hurt. Good, served him right. What this man could make me do....what this man made me want to do...

I felt Barbrey come up behind me, and press her body to mine. One hand slipped in-between my ass and moved under to my pussy, where she stroked languidly.

“Are you going to keep her over there all to yourself for much longer, or do I have to remind you to share?” Petyr finally spoke. I could sense the restlessness in his voice, as much as he tried to hide it. I was desperate to go over to him, to crawl across the bed sheets into his lap, but Barbreys fingers weren't unskilled.

“Be patient. I thought you were good at being patient?”

“It's just about the only virtue I excel in, but even so, a man has limits.”

Barbrey pulled back her hand from my pussy, where a thin string of my wetness trailed from her fingers, which she then presented to me.

“Suck” she ordered “Taste yourself”

I took her fingers into my mouth with relish, and hardly a second thought. I lapped my tongue around her fingers, comparing them to Petyr's, and realising he had quite feminine hands himself. Long and elegant. As I sucked and moaned as Barbreys other hand dipped inside me, I wondered if the both of them would be good at playing the piano. One of those bizzare kind of thoughts that could crop up even when my mind was hazy with sex, but even so. If they were half as deft with their fingers at an instrument, as they were at playing with my cunt, then I'd expect the music would be beautiful.

“You seem to like that, don't you? Sucking like that.” Barbrey crooned, pulling her fingers from my mouth.

“Barbrey.” Petyr shot at her, impatient.

“Yes, yes, I've not forgotten you're there” she tutted, pressing her mouth to my ear “Why is that men think that everything should centre around them in the bedroom? Needy things that they are. What do you think Sansa? Do you think your daddy needs your attention?”

Of course I nodded.

“I thought you might. Now, why dont you use that pretty mouth to show me how you suck his cock?”

A tremble ran through me “Yes, miss,”

Petyr let out a low noise from the back of his throat, and I was eager as Barbrey led me to the bed. Yes, his cock, that's what I wanted. Climbing up the bed, slowly, on all fours I reached him. I wanted to climb atop him, sit in his lap, press every inch of myself to him, but I stopped myself at his belt, unclasping it with a haste that made him smile, and there was a perverse sweetness as he ran a hand through my hair to guide it away from my face.

I pulled away the belt, pulled down his trousers, his briefs, until finally I had his cock before me, hard and red and in need of my mouth around it. We both moaned as I enveloped him, the sound thrumming over his cock as I took that first wonderful taste of him. Salty, musky, and there was that lingering smell of cigarette smoke that inevitably clung to his clothes, that filled my senses.

I sucked and licked, my tongue running underside him and around his head, pressing just that little harder where he had taught me a man was most sensitive. I never would have thought the skin of a mans cock would be as smooth as it was, or that I would come to hunger for the taste. 

“Come on, you can take more of him than that.” Came Barbrey's voice “Take all of him, all the way to the base.” she urged.

I came off him for a second to lick my lips, apprehensive. I'd never managed that before.

“I can't,” I mumbled, suddenly feeling embarrassed. I always sank down as much as I could, but it was only a couple of inches before I would start to splutter and choke. I would lap my tongue all around him, suck as much as I could take, to make up for it. I imagined some girls could do it, just not me.

“You can't?” she didn't seem to like the answer “What do you mean you can't?”

“It mean's I can't!” I whined.

I should have said Miss, I shouldn't have used that tone. Barbrey's hand came into my hair again, threatening to pull, and I tensed, remembering the game we were playing “Don't be silly, every girl can take a cock down their throat if they try hard enough.”

“Yes, miss.”I mumbled, as I slipped my mouth back over Petyr's cock. I went down one inch, two, paused and held him there, before slowing trying to take more of him. I wanted too, I wanted as much of his cock as I could have, but inevitably I hit that point where I had to cough and splutter, redness rising up in my cheeks as I couldn't fulfill this need. Still, I kept him in my mouth and tried again, a trail of spit escaping the side of my mouth and running down his cock as I did so, but again, I only ended up choking more.

“I can't,” I said again, upset, wiping the spit from my mouth with the back of my hand “Daddy, you're too big, I can't fit all of you in, you're too big,” I started using my hand to stroke him, eyes pleading, but Barbrey let out one of her barks of laughter as she let go of my hair.

“See how she manages you? She doesn't want to do it, and all of a sudden she's got the bambi eyes, and the baby voice, and the 'you're too big daddy, ooh, you're cocks just to much for me, I can't, I can't',” Barbrey seemed genuinely amused as she changed her harsh voice to a soft girlish one to mimic me.

“I'm trying!” I cried, frustrated “I want to, I just can't, Miss” I pawed at Petyr's side, just remembering to add on the 'miss' at the end to please Barbrey, all while wishing it was him who was in charge.

“I know you're trying, sweetling, you're doing so well. You know I love how you suck my cock,” his thumb came up to brush at my lower lip “You've got a good mouth, a good tongue, and always so eager...” his voice soothed me, and when his hand threaded through my hair where Barbrey's had just been, his touch was gentler “Now....aren't you eager to suck my cock as best you can?”

I sniffed “Yes....”

That meant I could do better. That he wanted me to do better. 

“Good girl. You're such a good girl.” He kissed me, and he knew how well those words worked on me, how right that second I knew I could do this and that I would, for him, as well as to show Barbrey.

I was guided to lay across the bed, my head hanging ever so slightly of the edge, and as the world was upside down, I saw that Barbrey had finally unlaced her blouse. Her bra was black. Of course it would be. She came down besides me, her hand snaking over my stomach, the soft skin between my breasts so that I shivered. The weight of the bed shifted again with Petyr standing up, undressing before he came to stand over me, my head by his cock.

“Now, tip your head back...” Barbrey instructed gently, her finger at my neck, guiding me “Yes, mouth open, just like that, and push your tongue down, flatten it....good.”I closed my eyes as Petyr slid his cock into my mouth, and I felt him harden as my tongue pressed up against it.  
“You're going to take him as much as you can, just like before, but it'll be easier now,” her nail dragged down the length of my throat “See how you've lined up your throat with your mouth like this?”

Petyr pressed his cock forwards until we hit that horrible point where I would have given up before, could feel the muscles in my throat tighten, making me gag slightly, but Barbrey held my head, so I couldn't stop.

“No, no, see now you're going to pause, pause and relax, that's it. Hold him there, right where you feel you can't go any further,” 

I moaned slightly, Petyr hard and unmoving as I grew used to the sensation of him right at the base of my throat, the urge to gag residing slowly. I found myself having to breathe through my nose, but slowly that started to feel less strange too. Barbrey's hand kept straying up my torso, encircling my nipple, down around my navel, and it was if all the tenseness was leaving my body, and I was focused on nothing but my breathing, Petyr's cock, and Barbrey's hands.

“Now...take more.” Barbrey said, and Petyr's cock pressed further down my throat, and I almost panicked, fighting the urge to reject him completely, but as I spluttered slightly, whimpering, I remembered the process. Breathe, relax, his cock, her hands. I could do this, I thought, Petyr was right I was an eager girl. Eager to please, eager to succeed, to show them, to savour him. I took more and more of him, his cock edging down my throat, I could feel him there held tight, and best of all I could feel him shudder, hear his breathless praise, muttered in a stream of soft encouragement. Everytime my throat muscles contracted around him he practically whimpered. 

When I felt my lips clasp around the very base of him, the entirety of his length down my throat, I felt Barbreys hand trail all the way down my body to between my legs, where her finger slipped down to rub gently and I jerked under her touch, moaning around Petyr's cock.

“That's your reward, little slut,” she kissed my breast, and I felt her tongue envelop my nipple “Do you think you'd let your daddy fuck your throat? I can see he's dying too.”

I could only murmur my plea of a yes, my hips rising up off the bed as Barbrey rubbed and rubbed over my clit, and then I felt Petyr slowly start to thrust. If I was able to talk I would thank him for being merciful, for going slow, easing himself in and out, in and out, between the tight walls of my throat, squeezing him every time I swallowed. I moaned out in my thanks as he masturbated with my mouth, drew this new pleasure from me, thank you, thank you, thank you daddy.

“I can see myself...see myself fucking you,” I felt Petyr's hand gently touch the base of my neck, where he would have seen the outline of his cock moving inside of me “You're beautiful, my girl, beautiful, don't stop. You're going to swallow my cum, every last drop, like the good girl you are, aren't you?”

Yes, yes, yes, I moaned around him, tears stinging my eyes from strain, from love, from worship. I couldn't see anything, only feel it all, hear it. The wet sounds my pussy made as Barbrey started to fuck me with her fingers, two at once, curling inside of me, massaging such a sweet spot. There was the vulgar way I spluttered over Petyr's cock, saliva running down out of my mouth, his grunts as he thrusted, his breath ragged, my muffled cries as I started to shake I was so aroused. I was close, so close, It hurt my throat but I wouldn't dare stop, the pain was nothing compared to the rest, I wanted to come, I wanted to make him come, I wanted us to come together, wanted to scream his name even as I choked on him.

My fingers gripped at the bed sheets as Petyr pushed himself so deep, his hips shuddering, his groan drawn out oh him as I barely even tasted his cum as it shot down my throat.

Barbreys fingers never left me as I wailed, still sucking as I came, wanting every last drop from him, just like he'd asked me too, spluttering as he finally pulled away from me, my body still jerking with the tremors of my orgasm under her touch. I drew in deep gasps as I breathed properly, air flooding down my raw throat. Petyr's hands clasped the sides of my face and I was kissed, wetly and hungrily, as he bent over me.

I wanted him to fuck me, or her, either way I needed it.

Rolling over onto my stomach I pleaded up at him with what Barbrey had labelled my Bambi eyes, because yes, I knew I had them and I knew when to use them, I just hadn't given them a title yet.

“Was that good?” I asked “Did you like that?” 

There was that demonic fatherly pride in his gaze as he leant down to kiss me. A look I craved.

“Yes,” he pulled back to hiss through his self indulgent smile, so close I could feel his warm breath “You did very well. A new skill.” he kissed me lightly again, sweetly.

“Fuck me?” I pleaded “Please, daddy.”

“That's not up to me,” he said, even as his hand wandered down to stroke the underside of my breast “Though I think you do deserve it, don't you, Barbrey? Dont you think she should have a well earned fuck?” he pinched my nipple between his thumb forefinger, and my pussy clenched in anticipation.

“This is what I mean when I say you spoil her,” Barbrey said as she pried down her skirt, along with her knickers, and I couldn't help but stare as her bra was unclipped next. No vulnerability had been added to her frame once nude, if anything she seemed to have more presence than ever. She did not have the body I could imagine she had fifteen years ago, but she held herself like she did, and her skin was smooth and taut “She only sucked your cock once. I think she could do a little more to earn what she wants.”

“Do you want to come again, Sansa? Is that it? You want your pussy filled, you want a good hard fuck?” she teased, lowering herself on to the bed, making her way besides me. My body hesitated at her touch, but she slid her hands up my thighs, and at this point my body was so ready I couldn't say I didn't like it.

“Yes,” the desperation creeped into my voice “Yes, miss.”

“Well,” she smiled, and I realised that this was the first time I'd seen her smile something akin to something real, something she actually felt “You'll have to put your pretty little mouth to work on me first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this wasn't too...clinical? Like a step by step guide on how to deepthroat with no feeling. I mean, in reality, Sansa probably wouldn't have been able to pick up the skill so fast, so it wouldn't even be a good clinical guide. Usually you have to build your way up to it for weeks but hey. Fiction. Artistic licence. 
> 
> Anyway, more sexy times to come next chapter. Try and guess what position all three of them are going to be getting themselves into, come on down, take your bets.

**Author's Note:**

> Me @ jesus: sorry about it.
> 
> I've realised with my other fics, whenever I want to write porn, I go way too much into back story. That's what's happened with my other fic, the Mockingbird, which I love and plan to finish, but it's gotten very big story wise. 17 chapters ain't they ain't even banged once? I know. I'm mad at me too. 
> 
> So for now, this will be my....for lack of more subtle wording....my kink filled fuck-apoolza fantasy outlet of degenerate filth?? 
> 
> So yeah, this will be multi-chaptered, barely plotted, sex scenes strung together vaguely in the grand scheme of general sexiness. And I hope you like it, and feel free to suggest things! I honestly don't have much shame left in me.


End file.
